Black Gold
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: The coal boom in Cardiff, Wales 1860. John Bates has come from Ireland to Cardiff, Wales to work for his old army commander, Robert Crawley. While attending to his duties as manager of the mine John meets local seamstress Anna Smith. They strike up a fast friendship that quickly develops into something deeper.
1. Prologue:Coal is Money in the Pocket

People have been mining in Wales since before the Romans conquered the people. They took it to an industrial scale because they had to build their war machines and manage their large empire. They, like all the generations who followed them, abandoned those places when they no longer offered the resources the Romans wanted and needed. Those places, the empty catacombs and quarries of the Roman era, still exist like the ghosts of a long forgotten age. The skeletons of industry hundreds of years before Britain existed.

In the early half of the nineteenth century mining was what most people did. It put meager helpings of food on the tables of the poor and almost destitute while giving even smaller benefits to those who toiled and slaved only to die with coal-coated lungs. In 1831 the Merthyr Rising represented the discontent of the working-class as they rose against their employers. Dic Penderyn died as a martyr to that class and their cause in that Rising.

And the violence did not stop there. The Chartist Movement and the Newport Rising in 1839 forced the government hand to create the Factory Act of the 1830s and the Mines Act of 1842. But, like many laws created with the best of intentions in mind, these were ignored. Boys and men were sent to the mines to die while pulling in wealth for those who could never begin to comprehend what bought their silver and gold.

In this town, Cardiff, coal runs like lifeblood. Without coal there would be no point to the port, no point to the trade, no way to make a living except to pound rocks against the insufficient fish. Coal fuels the empire and coal gives life to the city.

Coal revitalized the capital and made it great again. It also revitalized the emptying coffers of the Crawley family. Lord Grantham, unlike many of his class, felt a kind of responsibility to those under his care that others did not. When his father made a mine that brought them a fortune his son used his fortune to bless the people.

He rebuilt the town, rebuilt the castle, and rebuilt the port. He sought fair treatment for his workers, compensation for the families of the dead, and safety for even the animals carting the coal from the pits of the earth. His generosity brought about a new life for those under his purview and changed the way many saw the world.

In a city booming toward industrialization, in an empire aiming to maintain its preeminence around the globe, and a family rising again to their golden age, the new gold was black.


	2. The Black God

He straightened his tie and raised his hand to pull the bell. No one answered and his hand flexed over the bell cord again but he refrained. Removing his hat, he scratched his head a moment before working to replace the cloth securely around his forehead.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned, almost tripping over his suitcase to see who it was. The woman smiled, her mouth drawing back to crinkle her eyes in the barely contained giggle, and she covered her mouth with a hand to maintain her composure. With a cough she held up her hand, holding him in place without a second thought.

"I'm sorry I startled you but I thought it'd be better than you standing out here pulling on that cord when no one's going to come."

"Aren't there footman or butlers for a castle like this?"

"Cardiff Castle has them rightly enough but you could be jerking that cord forever and they still wouldn't bring you inside until the master is home."

"I have an appointment with the master." He jerked his thumb toward the door before removing a telegram from his inside pocket, passing it to her. "It's pretty clear."

Her eyes darted over it quickly, the whizzing of blue catching all his attention and holding him captive. After a moment she handed it back and he shook himself to take it. Tucking it back into his jacket he spread his arms in time with the shrug of his shoulders. "It's written in English so I know I understood it."

"By your accent I could tell you weren't native." She pointed to a sign, "And if it makes you feel better, I can't read Welsh either. I've been learning and I manage on all the basics but nothing like a newspaper."

"I haven't even tried and I speak Gaelic." He stepped off the stoop, half turning back to the house. "But if I was told to meet Colonel Crawly why wouldn't he be here? This is his house yes?"

"It is but Lord Grantham's not one to sit idly by when there's work to be done." She stopped, chewing her lip a moment before waving her hand to beckon him after her. "Here, I'll take you to him."

He grabbed his suitcase, hurrying to walk beside her on the pavement, and they aimed toward the center of town. "Are you sure it's wise to be escorting a man you only just met on a doorstep into town without a chaperone?"

"Considering it was on the doorstep of the Crawley's house I doubt anyone will think you're a vagrant or felon." She paused, "Unless you are Mister-"

"Bates, John Bates." John extended his hand and she shook it. "I'm neither so you've at least got a good enough eye to see that."

"And what are you then, Mr. Bates?"

"I'm here as a consultant, for the mine."

"Are you?"

"I am." John stopped, "Do you doubt my story?"

"I wasn't aware there was much mining in Ireland."

"More than you'd think. Though there I specialized in gold and silver extraction, not coal."

"There are few places that can coat the lungs with black the way we can here, Mr. Bates." She shrugged, "It's our Black God. Runs the docks, the shops, the town, and even the bleeding sun if it spews from enough chimneys."

"You don't sound too pleased with it."

"It's a necessary evil if people want to eat and since I'm someone who prefers the steady lull of a full stomach to the raw gnaw of the empty I'll take the torn trousers and ripped shirts that run my business."

"Then you're a seamstress miss-?"

"It's Smith, Anna Smith, and yes I am." Anna paused at a crossroad, "Do you sew, Mr. Bates?"

"I can mend a tear and reaffix a button but that's the extent of my skills."

"Then make sure to come to me and not go wandering off to Ms. Parks' shop when you need a repair." Anna wagged a finger at him, "I won't have my good graces be wasted on someone bound to betray my skills."

John laughed, holding up both hands in surrender, "I wouldn't dream of offending you so soon. Ever, if I can help it."

"Good man. This way."

They walked toward the docks and Anna led John into one of the buildings. She knocked at one of the doors and ushered John step back as it opened. When it opened a man with blonde hair stepped out. He eyed both people with furrows to his brow before nodding to Anna.

"I thought I was coming for the fitting tomorrow. Have I missed it?"

"No, Mr. Crawley, it's nothing like that and your wedding suit is already finished, just so you know." Anna gestured toward John, "I've brought the contractor, Mr. Bates, to see Lord Grantham."

"Mr. Bates?" Crawley's mouth pursed and then his eyes snapped wide. "Yes, the contractor."

He stepped forward, practically grabbing one of John's hands to shake vigorously before releasing it. "I apologize none of us were at the castle to meet you."

"I think it must've been my mistake."

"No, ours certainly. We didn't give nearly enough details in the telegram but it was made with some haste when we sent it." Crawley moved to hold the door open with his body, "Please come it. Robert and Tom are already discussing plans for the mine and they'll want to get you started straight away."

"I'm here to serve." John turned to Anna, offering her his hand. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Smith. I would've been lost in the streets without you."

"It's no more than I'd do for any other stranger." Anna took his hand, "But I did rather enjoy helping you more than most, if it's not to bold to say."

"I like boldness," John winked, bringing her knuckles to just brush his lips, and smiled at the faint bloom of red that graced her cheeks in response. "I'm Irish and we burn a little hotter than most."

"I'll take care not to singe myself." Anna slowly withdrew her hand caressing it in the grip of her other. "Though, if you happen to have any reason to see the town, my shop is near the Old Arcade. If you happen to like a pint yourself you might take the time to wave."

"What if it's too far from my lodgings?"

"It's a good stretch of the legs, Mr. Bates." Anna nodded toward Crawley, "I'm sure Mr. Crawley here wants you near enough to the castle for the time being so you'll be staying at the Rummer's Inn and that's just a short jaunt."

"She's right." Crawley risked a look into the office, "But, unfortunately Ms. Smith, I'll need to steal him back for business."

"Of course, pardon me." Anna nodded at John, "Good morning, Mr. Bates."

"Good morning Ms. Smith."

With a quick look back, John followed Crawley into the office and immediately felt the hearty handshake of a man about his height, with much grayer hair, and a bright smile. "Bates, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Less gray than yourself, Colonel."

"Ha!" The Colonel barked, "You'd look like me as well if you had three daughters clawing at one another from the day they were old enough to know what possession is."

"I probably would sir."

"Enough of that Bates, we're not in the Army anymore." The Colonel batted Bates's form of address away. "Though we barely survived our time in India."

"We survived it well enough."

"Only because of you." The Colonel dragged John by his gripped hand to show off to Crawley and the other man in the office. "This man pushed me out of the line of fire from a determined group of Sikh's near Bengal and then carried me on his back for ten miles to reach our lines."

"It must be the Irish in him." The as-yet-unnamed man stepped forward to take John's unoccupied hand. "Please to meet you Mr. Bates. I'm Tom Branson."

"Tom and Matthew here," The Colonel wagged his finger between Crawley and Branson, "Are my sons-in-law."

"Matthew's not there just yet." Branson nudged Matthew with his shoulder. "But that's this weekend."

"Congratulations." John extricated his hand from the Colonel's punishing grip to shake Matthew's hand again. Lowering his voice he spoke toward Matthew's ears, "Or do I wish condolences?"

"I'll tell you which depending on the day." Matthew drew back, thrusting his hand toward the Colonel. "But Robert here told us you're just the man we need for this."

"I hope so." John shifted his jaw, "Though my expertise is more with metal mining than coal so I don't know the level of aid I can truly offer you. From what I hear you've got your operation well in hand."

"It's not the operation that worries us." Branson clasped his hands behind his back, "Lord Grantham here needs you to fulfill your duties more in the capacity of your service in Bengal."

"As military police?" John frowned, "Don't you have a constabulary here in Cardiff?"

"We do, and they're fine chaps." Lord Grantham soothed John's worries, "What we need is more along the lines of an investigation."

"Investigation? Into what?"

Matthew cleared his throat, "You're not entirely unfamiliar with the trouble we've had in the past, in regards to mine riots and uprisings are you?"

"I've read about them. Had to deal with a few myself when I was foreman and manager." John paused, "Are you afraid they'll be another one here?"

"We've got more than enough malcontents across the city breeding their own brand of troubles when they drown their sorrows in their drinks." Lord Grantham huffed, "They've made some veiled threats in the past."

"And you worried about them unveiling them, sir?" John shook his head, "Milord?"

"That's what we need you to work out for us." Branson shuffled in place, "Lord Grantham, Matthew, and I are well known around here. We go sniffing in the pubs then all the talk quiets down. We need someone they'll see as being on their side, not ours."

"The first thing I did when I came here was come straight to you. I don't see how they'll see me as one of them after that."

"All new hires have to so it won't be that unusual." Matthew added quickly, "More to it, you won't be a frequent guest at the castle so no one'll suspect a thing."

John sucked the insides of his cheeks, "And you'll take me on, to them, as a consultant?"

"We'd take you on a foreman or manager but that'd set too many teeth on edge and make you too many enemies at the start." Lord Grantham winced, "Mr. Barrow'd be mortified if we took away his job."

"Not as though he doesn't have enough reasons to lose it." Branson muttered but Matthew held up a hand to calm him.

"Barrow's a key player in all of this. We need him to be as ignorant as all the rest if we really want to suss him out." Matthew turned to John, "What we need is our own mole in the mine."

John gave a little laugh, "Then a sacrifice to the Black God I'll be. When do I start?"


	3. Cries of the Canary

Anna lifted the hem on the trousers, pining it carefully before stepping back. "How's that now Mr. Moseley?"

"Fits like a glove Anna." He sniggered, "Well, like trousers if they were a glove… I mean, if my gloves fit like my trousers…."

Anna bit back her laugh, "I understand and I'll take the compliment." She pointed to the screen, "Just change back there and I'll have the hemming done by the time my shop opens tomorrow."

"Thank you Anna."

He ducked back behind the screen as Anna gathered the scraps of cloth and the pins from around the base of the stool Mr. Moseley just vacated. The bell over the door jangled and Anna turned over her shoulder to see who entered. A smile took over her face, growing larger when she stood completely and arranged the scraps of cloth over her arm.

"Mr. Bates, I'm grateful to see you." She walked over to her table, laying the scraps on their respective piles and dropping the pins in the jar before facing him again. "Though I didn't think you'd need a seamstress so soon."

"Unless I'm very, very clumsy." He smiled, pointing to the bolts of fabric around his shop. "This all yours?"

"Yes," Anna took stock of it all, smiling to herself as she saw it through his eyes, "I bought it all with a loan and paid it all back within a year."

"That's impressive."

"It is, isn't it?" She went to say something else but the sound of Mr. Moseley clearing his throat as he came out from behind the screen stopped her. "Ah, Mr. Moseley. May I introduce you to Mr. Bates?"

"Oh," Mr. Moseley hurried to extend a hand to John, shaking enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Bates. Any friend of Anna's is a friend of mine."

"We're just acquaintances for the moment but the feeling's mutual, I'm sure." He released Mr. Moseley's hand, pointing to the trousers. "Hemming or mending?"

"Hemming. I'm starting a new job and I need to look respectable."

"Congratulations on your good fortune, Mr. Moseley." John stepped back, "I'll get out of your way then since I think you've got something to finish with Ms. Smith."

"Yes," Mr. Moseley jumped toward the table, knocking into it with his hip and only Anna's hand stopped it from tipping. "Sorry about that. I can be clumsy sometimes."

"It's alright and there's no harm done." Anna calculated something on a pad before spinning it on the table to show him. "That's for the hemming and, as I said, come back when I open and you'll have your new trousers ready and waiting for you."

"Thank you." Mr. Moseley dug into his pocket, pulling out the money and handed it over with the trousers. "I'll be here on the dot."

"I should hope so. We wouldn't want Mr. Matthew without his valet before the big rehearsal now would we?" Anna smiled at Mr. Moseley, the other man ducking his head in modesty, and waved him out the door.

"He's a nice fellow."

"You like him?" Anna folded her arms over her chest, "For a moment I was worried."

"Worried?"

"That you might exercise your hot Irish blood in defense of my honor at seeing me with a man in my shop." Anna walked to the door, flipping the sign there.

"I'm not possessive of what isn't mine." John opened his hands toward her. "I tend to believe that people should never be so foolish as to claim ownership of what isn't theirs."

"That's open minded of you, to a degree I don't think I've ever heard from a man." Anna cleared up her shop. "I assume you're here because you want to take me up on the offer of a drink at the Old Arcade."

"I actually just wanted to take the time to wave since I was on the way back to the Rummer's Inn."

Anna grinned, "They put you up there then?"

He ducked his head, "They did. As you predicted.'

"I'm just experienced." Anna counted the change, pulling down a small lock box. "It's their habits. In a place as small as this you know the habits of the people you dress and undress on a regular basis."

"Is that why you invited me here?" John grinned at her, "To undress me?"

"If I wanted to undress you, Mr. Bates, I'd just pull the stitching from your clothes." She dropped the money in the box, locking it before replacing it on the shelf. "For right now however, I'll be satisfied if we share a pint at the Old Arcade."

"I'll be satisfied with that too." John offered her his arm, "Shall we Ms. Smith?"

"I believe I'd be more than pleased." Anna took his arm, allowing John to lead her out the door. She stopped, only to lock the door of the shop, and then pointed him toward the pub. "How was your first day?"

"Enlightening," John took a breath, "I don't think I expected what's going to be required of me."

"Is working for Lord Grantham such an impossibility?"

"It's more what they need me to do." John stopped himself, shaking his head. "I don't think I can tell you anymore about any of this."

"About working in the mines?" Anna steered them toward the pub, nodding her head in thanks to him as he opened the door for her. "I thought you were experienced there."

"I'm experienced in running a mine, in running men, and in managing the day-to-day operations of many things but not what's been asked of me."

Anna took a seat, "What's been asked of you, if I can ask that?"

John took the seat opposite her, massaging his hands. "How much do you know about what's going on at the mine?"

"I told you, I know everyone's habits." Anna leaned over the table, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "Don't you think I know a few more things about this?"

"What do you know?"

"I know that the Crawleys are forever opposed by people who think they don't deserve what they've got and given the political climate of the Welsh to the English, especially the feelings of miners and the others of the working class toward the ruling class, they're under threat daily."

"You picked that up from fitting people for clothes?"

Anna smiled at him, "People don't like someone silent when they fit them for clothing. It makes the situation awkward."

"So then, when Mr. Crawley mentioned this morning that he had a fitting with you-"

"He's not the one who told me." Anna shook her head, "He's got too much professionalism to just spill any secrets to me."

"You think I will?"

"Not necessarily," Anna shifted in her seat, "The way this game works is that I say something and you either confirm it or you just let it slide."

"And you think I'll answer you?" John leaned over, grinning at her. "For a pretty smile and your company?"

"More like for my help." Anna cupped her hands together, "With all the things I know you could benefit from my help in whatever you've been recruited to do."

"You're willing to trade information?"

"I'm wiling to help out a fellow stranger in a strange land." Anna sat back slightly. "What I know comes from the mouth of Lady Mary Crawley herself."

"And you'd share with me what she shared with you in confidence?"

"No. I'd share with you what you need to do your job."

John frowned, "But why? Why do you care about this?"

"Because I care about the Crawleys." Anna looked down at her hands, "Remember how I gained my shop through a loan?"

"Yes."

"It was Mary who gave me the loan. She's the one who gave me the money as repayment for service I rendered her."

"What kind of service?"

Anna wagged her finger at him, "I thought we were speaking in confidence. I have hers for the service I gave her and she has mine. I'm not a fool so I wont be telling you why Lady Mary would tell me everything troubling her family."

"So you're going to help me save the Crawley family."

"That's my job." Anna tapped the table, "Now, we need food and drink for this conversation because you're far behind in all this."

"That I am."

Anna ordered the food for them and waited until the server left. "To begin, do you trust Mr. Matthew and Mr. Branson?"

"They seem brave enough. One of them is married to a Crawley daughter and the other will be. That means that Colonel Crawley obviously trusts them enough to let them have his daughters and his word is enough for me."

"That's good because they're both good men." Anna cut into her food, "They you can trust with your life… or, at least with your job."

"Anyone else?"

"Most of the miners think well enough of the Crawleys because they're good people. Lord Grantham has done a lot for this town and for the people here so they respect him."

"And the others?"

"I assume they hired you because you're supposed to ferret out their connections to less than desirable elements who want nothing more than for the castle to burn to the ground so they can dance around the flames."

"It seems like that's what they want but I've no idea why."

"Some people just want to watch the world burn." Anna sighed, "You're a miner yes?"

"By trade."

"Then you know what the cry of the canary means."

"It means you can still breathe in the mine." John narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

"Because I'm making sure you can still cry like a canary. That the Crawleys can still cry like canaries." Anna took a breath, "If you're willing to take this risk with me then we can work together to save them."

"You owe the Crawleys that much?"

"We all do." Anna motioned to the pub around them. "This all stands on their grace and I won't betray that."

"Neither will I."

"That I know or you wouldn't be here now." Anna raised her glass, "To the small efforts little people like us to save those much higher than ourselves."

"No," John shook his head and raised his glass, "Not higher, just richer."

"Fair enough." Their glasses clinked and they both drank with smiles on their faces.


	4. Butterfly Link

John walked Anna back to her shop, enjoying the stroll in the darkness. "It's beautiful here."

"It's why I love it." She took a deep breath, raising her shoulders with it, and let it out in a dramatic rush. "For as much as I love where I grew up and will always consider myself English, this place feels like where I was always meant to belong."

"I think we've all got places we belong and fewer people than we'll admit actually belong where they grew up." John sucked the inside of his cheek, "It's a poor man that's confined to stay forever in the realm of his nativity and never venture to the see the world just a step farther from his door."

"Who said that?"

"I think I did."

"It's beautiful." Anna smiled at him, "Do you read much poetry Mr. Bates?"

"More than I'd admit in a room where there are men imbibing in alcohols and singing merrily to the more bawdy of songs." John winked at her, "But enough to try and woo a few pretty girls to give me goodnight kisses."

"I hope you weren't bringing that out for me."

"I wouldn't dare suggest you'd kiss a man you barely know." John put a hand to his chest, "I may not stake any claim toward you as yet but I will be a gentleman and defend your honor."

"How noble."

"It's what real men do."

"Protect women?"

John sensed the tease in her comment, noting it in the twinkle of her eye, but he grew serious as he met her gaze and held it a moment before answering. "Respect women, Ms. Smith."

"What a marvelous idea." Anna extracted the key to the door and inserted it into the lock. "I think the men of this town could learn a thing or two from you Mr. Bates."

"I hope to learn a thing or two from them."

"But not as much as you'll learn from me."

"Definitely not." John agreed, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Has there been anyone visiting your shop that you'd suspect as being against the Crawleys?"

"Those type tend to stay away from my shop." Anna waved him inside, turning up the wick on a lantern and lighting to rest on the table between them. "It's not a secret how I came to own this place and that I continue to respond to their needs as I see fit."

"Where would people like that go?"

Anna scrunched her face in thought a moment, "Ms. Parks tends to take all sorts there. She's a fine enough seamstress but she lives on the gossip more. There's also Ms. O'Brien, the head ladies maid at the Castle, who tends to swap stories there. She and Mr. Barrow, from the mine, are thick as thieves really."

"What would she have against them?"

"In reality the better question is 'what would any of them have against the Crawleys' since this group seems determined to do them harm." Anna sighed, "It's all down to the idea that people will always want what they can't have and endeavor to steal what they want from those who do have it. They desire that all may be miserable like unto themselves."

"Poetic."

"Accurate."

They stood in silence a moment longer until John nodded, "I've an early start and you owe Mr. Moseley his hemmed trousers by the opening of your shop tomorrow."

"I do." Anna sighed, "Though I do wish you and I could take a bit more time to know one another. I think it's been a bit since I had someone to talk to who didn't get nervous being around me or trying to make some sort of advance toward me."

"Given Mr. Moseley's nerves this afternoon I could see that being a problem." John shrugged, "But, for the moment, I believe our relationship will revolve around the mending you'll inevitably have to do for me."

"Inevitably?"

"I'm sure I'll tear some trousers or lose the buttons on a shirt and need you to help me repair them."

"Nature of your business?"

"It's not as gentle as yours."

"I don't know." Anna eyed her shop, "I deal with sharp objects and scissors all day so perhaps not as gentle as you'd think."

"Better than hammers, chisels, and pickaxes I guess." John extended a hand, "Thank you for your aid tonight Ms. Smith and I hope to continue this in the future."

"As do I." Anna gripped his hand, "And come back anytime. I've Mr. Matthew's fitting tomorrow and there's a host of preparations for the wedding on Saturday but otherwise it's all hemming and stitching and mending."

"You make it sound boring."

"It's not exciting."

"I've seen exciting in my life and when I was in the moment I thought it was something but…" John winced, "Too many moments like that and you start to wonder if perhaps the better path isn't the quiet life. One where the simple day-to-day is managed and handled in the same way everyday."

"Spoken like a man who saw the edge and walked back from it."

"Not sure all of me walked back from it but the parts of me that did are glad for it." John realized their hands were still connected and released hurriedly. "Thank you, Ms. Smith, for a very helpful evening."

"It was my pleasure Mr. Bates."

John dipped his head and exited the shop, walking the short distance to his room at the inn. Those still making merry on the ground floor barely troubled him as he ascended the stairs to his room. But when he opened the door his mood fell as swiftly as his smile.

"Hello Batesy?" A woman, sitting on the edge of the bed in just a nightdress stood at his entrance. "Not happy to see me I see."

"No, Vera, I'm not."

"Did you think I was just going to let you get away?"

"I had hoped." John closed the door behind him, "What are you doing here?"

"My cousins weren't willing to keep me in Ireland."

"What did you do to get sent away from them?" John waited, Vera's cold eyes darting away from him. "Did you steal from them too?"

"I may've done some things that didn't make them very happy."

"I'm sure you did a great number of things that made them unhappy." John shook his head, "Was it your grandmother who finally expelled you or did your cousins find the courage to rid themselves of your toxic presence."

"You always could be so unkind, Batesy." Vera's teeth gritted but John ignored it.

"I'm not trying to be kind, Vera, I'm asking what you're doing here."

"I told you."

"No, you said your cousins wouldn't keep you in Ireland." John shook his head, "How did you even find me?"

"I'm not an idiot, Batesy, I know the moment you had that telegram from your beloved Colonel you'd go wherever he called you."

"If you're about to make a comment about my dedication to my old war commander then perhaps you could remember he was there for me while you weren't."

"You left me for him so I would hope he was there for you given what you gave up to be with him."

"Don't make it sound sordid, Vera, you've not got the moral high ground to justify what you feel." John pointed at her, "Now answer why you're here."

"I'm here because I need a place to stay."

"A place to hide you mean?"

"That's cruel."

"That's truth, Vera." John sighed, "You only ever come to me when your lover abandons you or you need me for something but I'm done with it Vera. Just as I'm done with you."

"The divorce won't go through Batesy."

"It's already filed, Vera, and don't call me that." John moved past her, pulling his tie loose and opening the wardrobe to hang his jacket. "You need to leave and not come back."

"You're still my husband until the court actually gives you the freedom you seem so desperate to find." Vera snapped, "And I've a right to my husband."

"Not since I've already filed proof of your adultery with the court." John nodded at the widening of Vera's eyes. "That's right, I took you up on your taunt and finally obtained the proof."

"You're lying."

"No, I was resourceful." John waited, "I watched and I waited and I realized that there were other men out there who perhaps felt the way I did about you once they realized you did the same to them as you did to me."

"Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter who it was." John hung his jacket in the wardrobe and pulled his suitcase toward him. "All that matters is now you're not my problem."

"And what do I do?"

"I don't know and I don't care." John rested his hands on the back of the chair next to the small desk in the room. "That's… that's cruel."

"Not as cruel as things you've said before."

"I know." John hung his head a moment before lifting it to look at Vera. "Whatever we might've had once Vera we don't have it anymore. We've lost whatever it is that we thought we had and now we've got to move on."

"Where will I move?"

"You could find one of those lovers who might actually want you back and return to him." John pushed off the chair, "Whatever you're going to do, do it far away from here."

"Do you care so little for me?"

"I used to care a great deal for you but we both destroyed that." John shoved the chair back into place and popped the latches on his suitcase. "We're not those people any longer Vera and we shouldn't be those people either."

"Ten years, gone like that?" Vera snapped her fingers and John turned to look at her.

"You're going to make me feel guilty for this given that you're the one who found other people to fill your bed while I'm wasn't there?"

"You left me!"

"I was ordered to!" John shouted back, tossing his suitcase to the side where it crashed against the wall. "I followed the orders of the commanders and the King. That's what you do when you're in the Army."

"You could've left it for me."

"And risked prison?" John barked a laugh, "You left me for anyone when I was gone for a weekend. Do you believe that I would've come back to you, grateful that you waited for me, to see you excited for my return?"

"I guess we'll never know." Vera snatched her dressing gown from the bed and stuffed her arms through the sleeves. "When should I expect to return to the name you asked I leave for yours?"

"A few weeks." John shook his head, "I don't know how they'll tell you but you're welcome to keep my name if you want it."

"I wanted it more once." Vera let out a breath, "Now I don't know if I should've ever wanted it at all."

"We were too young and too impetuous." John muttered but Vera only let the door slam behind her as she left.

Dipping down to pick up his suitcase off the floor, John set it on the bed. He took a deep breath and corrected the contents now jumbled inside the straining constraints. As he filtered through his things he noted the small leather wallet at the bottom. Drawing it out John flipped the folding cover to snort at the photograph inside.

He tossed it onto the desk, "We're not those people anymore."

* * *

Anna adjusted the veil and pulled it out from the dress to let it fall softly. She walked around the standing woman, frowning and bending to quickly pull a bit of the fabric up and sew it into place. With a satisfied 'hm', Anna stood and faced the woman. "I think your dress is all ready… Mrs. Crawley."

"I'm not that until tomorrow." The dark-haired woman took a half turn, holding at the dress. "And you're sure Matthew's all ready?"

"I finished his fitting yesterday." Anna adjusted part of the sleeve, "And your dress will be waiting for you tomorrow morning once he's away from the Castle."

"I'm sure you'll get it there without a problem."

"Thank you Mary." Anna turned at the sound of the door, "If you want get yourself free of this dress then I'll deal with them."

"They're just buttons. I can manage those on my own." Mary waved her off, "Go and deal with your other customer."

Anna hurried out from the back room, clapping her hands together to alert the man standing near the window of her shop. "Good morning sir. How can I help you?"

The man turned to her, a smile over his face as he held up a shirt. "I've got a rather large tear in this."

"That's half my work and I won't begrudge it." Anna pointed him to the table and motioned for the shirt. "Let's see the damage shall we?"

With the shirt between them Anna clicked her tongue against her teeth, "This is rather abysmally treated."

"Hazards of my work I think." He managed another easy smile that Anna returned. "But I was told you have the best shop in Cardiff."

"That was nice of someone to say." Anna pulled at the fabric, stretching it and eyeing the rather large injury. "This might be a bit beyond my normal skill but I think I could have it repaired in an hour or so if that's alright."

"That's perfectly fine. I'm not due to need it until tomorrow morning."

"Good to know you've got spares." Anna took the shirt off the table and walked to the counter where she made a note. "I always struggle when men come in here with the only shirt they've got to their name and need it immediately."

"I believe in planning ahead."

"Do you?" Anna pulled the slip of paper loose and slid it over the counter with the pencil. "That's rather daring of you."

"I'm rather daring." He wrote down his name. "Should I let you have it until the morning or return later?"

"I'll be closing early today so I'll have it at noon." Anna took the paper back, "What a lovely name."

"Thank you, it was a gift from my parents."

"After Alexander the Great?"

"I imagined so but they never lived long enough to tell me." Alexander shrugged, "All I've got to remember them is the first name they gave me and the last name I inherited."

"By that last name I'd guess you're not from around here, are you Mr. Green." Anna pined the note to the shirt and laid it on a small pile.

"I'm from London."

"Been here long?"

"Arrived today."

Anna laughed, "And already damaged a shirt. I'd say that perhaps our fair city has something to tell you."

"I did the damage on the way here so I guess this city's my salvation." Mr. Green nodded at her, "As are you. An angel from heaven."

"I wouldn't know about that but I can fix a shirt."

"Given the state of your shop I'd say you do a right more than that."

"Perhaps, in future, you'll see the extent of my skills Mr. Green." Anna nodded at him, "I'll see you at noon with a finished shirt."

"Already looking forward to it." He dipped his head at her and left the shop.

Anna returned to the back, finding Mary carefully placing the dress to the side. "I see you managed the buttons."

"I did." Mary pulled her own dress toward her. "There was a moment of worry but I managed it."

"I guess the good news is you won't be alone to manage it on or off tomorrow." Anna took the dress, "You'll have me for the on and your sisters for the off."

"Edith's not getting near that." Mary pointed a finger at the dress in Anna's arms. "After what she did to that lovely shawl you made for me she's never touching another piece you've made for me."

"It was an accident, Mary."

"Not the point." Mary maintained, "I don't want this dress ripped or torn."

"Not until I rip and tear it to make your babies' baptismal gowns yes?" Anna smiled, patted the fabric. "I'll have it to the Castle this afternoon, after Mr. Matthew leaves for the evening."

"Oh Anna," Mary took a breath. "I'm so nervous about it all."

"I think you're supposed to be terrified." Anna shrugged, "You're about to change your life forever."

"I know but now that it's here I can't…"

"Believe it?"

Mary nodded, "Matthew's a good man and Papa trusts him and I know I made the right choice but, all the same, there's this roiling in my stomach I can't explain."

"Not having experienced the sensation myself all I can say is that you're probably going through the same fears and trepidations that a million women before and after you experience before their wedding."

"And after?"

Anna reddened slightly, "What I know about that I'm not supposed to know and what you'll find out you shouldn't tell me."

"Yes," Mary agreed, "Bad form."

"No go and enjoy your day. This is a time to celebrate."

"And you've other work to do."

"Unfortunately I must maintain this generous gift."

"Gift?" Mary huffed, "It was an equal repayment for services rendered. Who else was I to trust to help me move the body of that man out of my room?"

"I'm not sure but I'd rather you not have to trust me to repeat such an action."

"I'm getting married Anna. The only bodies coming out of my room from now on are those I wanted there in the first place." Mary finished restoring her appearance and took her hat from the chair. "It's just… it's amazing we made it here."

"I think it's a well deserved miracle." Anna led Mary to the front of the shop. "Now remember, enjoy this."

"I will." Mary and Anna kissed one another's cheeks before Mary left the shop, the door closing with a determined snap.

Anna took the dress to a mannequin and arranged it to fall as it would on Mary. Within a moment she had needle and thread weaving their pattern through the fabric, fixing it with the final alterations. As she sat back Anna let the smile go over her face. Her finest work.

"Fit for queen or fairy." Anna pulled at the sleeves, "And certainly fit for Mary Crawley."


	5. Booming Industrialism

John checked his tie one final time and pulled the borrowed morning coat from the wardrobe with the hat that bore the distinct scent of Lord Grantham's cologne. He worked his arms through the sleeves, noting the slight strain as his broader shoulders filled it more than Lord Grantham's did, but managed to find a comfortable pose. Reaching for the hat he almost flipped it off the chair but caught it before the shining fabric could touch the floor.

With a whistle of relief, he sorted the remainder of his appearance and directed himself out the door. There was little life in the inn, most of those occupying it the night before sleeping off the effects in their homes and anyone else hoping to get a look at the procession arranged to celebrate the marriage of the eldest Crawley daughter. John's shoes clacked ever-so-slightly on the cobblestones as he walked toward the church.

The winding streets, strewn as they were with garlands of flowers and waving banners, welcomed any and all to the celebrations. Celebrations that began with the steady stream of people who crushed and bustled into lines aiming toward the church like ants following a picnic. In fact, the density of the crowd was so much John had to watch every step so he neither trod on a foot or a child while still keeping a pace that left him with enough distance not to bump and bang against those about him.

However, his efforts were not as successful as he wished when his shoulder collided with another man's for a moment. He turned, ready to apologize, but could not get a word out as the man eyed him up and down before snorting and walking away. Gawking at him, John shuffled back into the press and soon reached the doors forcing everyone to walk single file.

It was like being stuffed into a funnel, or a mineshaft, and John tried to move his arms closer to his body by the strain on the morning coat forced him to simply tilt sideways through the doors as those behind him would not pause for a moment. Almost stumbling through the door, John righted himself and turned to the usher standing just inside the shadows of the doors.

His face lit up and he extended a hand for a hearty shake. "Sight for sore eyes there, Mr. Branson."

"Glad to be of any help I can." Branson handed over a program, "Careful, I think some of the ink's a bit damp."

"Accident at the printer's?"

"More like Mary's got herself a bit of a nervous tick for everything to be perfect."

"She is the bride."

"And no one's going to notice a few spelling errors in a program they're not going to read anyway." Branson handed a program around John to a couple glaring at their distracting conversation. "They only want it to one day show their grandchildren, 'And this was the day I attended Lady Mary Crawley's wedding' before they go on to enumerate their other accomplishments."

"Which we can all hope are many."

"I've nothing against their accomplishments."

"Then what is it?"

Branson shrugged, "Perhaps I just don't understand the brouhaha."

"You're married."

"We married in a tiny Dublin chapel after our bans were read. It was a quiet ceremony attended by Sybil's sisters and a few of my cousins, who brought my mother, but that was it. The little reception we hosted afterward was in a lovely little pub and we honeymooned in the country at one of my cousin's farms."

"I'm sure she was lulled to sleep by the sounds of the wildlife." John snorted, "But you're right. I wouldn't endure this crucible for anything if it were my wedding."

"Given that no one'll marry you I guess you never have to worry about that." John turned to see a man with perfectly set hair, a jaw set in permanent disapproval, a tight smile of both caustic sarcasm and barely constrained frustration, and the coldest eyes he had seen outside of his own wife. "The consultant at a mining operation doesn't present much by way of prospects."

"No more than the manager, I'd guess." John extended his hand, "You're Thomas Barrow I believe."

Barrow looked down at John's hand and there was the faintest of tingles at the back of John's neck like he should retract his appendage before the man spat on him. "And you're John Bates. Since we both already know one another it'd seem a bit useless to pretend we want to know one another more."

"We don't know one another at all, Mr. Barrow." John took his hand back, "I've been hoping to meet you since your running of the mine is commendable."

"In other circumstances I'd thank you for what I take as a compliment but, in this, I'll just warn you away from my job."

"I don't want your job, Mr. Barrow. I'm just here to assess a possible improvement to the mining operation. It's a consultation to make the lives of workers better." John narrowed his eyes, "Isn't that better?"

"The men handle the conditions as they are. I'd suggest against upsetting the delicate balance."

"Your delicate balance?" John risked, bristling with a roll of his shoulders. "I'm sure the saying that a man, once in possession of a little power, just can't help seeking more."

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"Not at all." John tipped his hat to him, "Enjoy the ceremony Mr. Barrow."

"Perhaps I should advise you of the same thing."

"But you won't?"

"That might make unfair assumptions."

Barrow's lip twitched into a position that had all the hairs on John's body standing straight up. It was one of a secret someone cannot hold to themselves much longer as they feed on the delicious nature of the information they hold. John barely stopped himself reaching for the man but Barrow slipped backward and the flow toward the remaining seats swept him away.

"He's a special kind of snake." Branson shook his head. "Can't help but lord whatever power he does have over everyone else."

"He's got something to hide." John worried the edge of the hat.

"Of course he does. We told we-"

"Not that," John waved Branson's argument away, noticing he tried to bend the brim of the hat out flat before forcing himself to hold it properly. "Something else. People with that kind of glee about information they hold that you don't are like street magicians. It's about forcing people to look somewhere else."

"What do you think he's hiding?"

"It's personal, whatever it is." John snorted, "Explains why he's an aloof bastard. Get anyone too close and they'll know his secret."

"I do hope he's not…" Branson motioned John closer to whisper, "A bone smuggler."

"I always preferred the term 'sword swallower' but I guess it's all speculation." John shivered, "But I wouldn't wish that on any man."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not kind to those we consider unnatural." John sighed, "There was a man in my unit in the Army who… let's just say the term 'ass bandit' was not the worst they called him before he killed himself."

"As much as I dislike Barrow as a person, I truly hope his secret is something like a gambling problem or that he tends to his personal needs in a personal way."

John snorted a laugh, "I think we're definitely losing the focus of today's ceremony."

"It's not started yet and we're not in anyone's way here." Branson waved an arm toward the straggling final entrants. "Now we just need to get to our seats."

"I might be trapped in the rear since I wasted my chance at a closer seat."

"Nonsense. As far as Robert's concerned you're a friend of the family and he wanted you up with us." Branson clapped a hand on John's shoulder and guided him up the aisle to weave through the settling groups.

John followed Branson into a pew and tried to relax his shoulders so he did not pull the seam of the morning coat too tightly across his back. There was a bit of room between himself and the end of the bench but Branson pulled his arm as John tried to scoot sideways to give himself a bit more space. Frowning, John went to ask about it but the man at the organ changed his tune and everyone turned to see Matthew enter with his best man.

Ooohs and Ahhhs trailed after them like their own train as Matthew and the other man settled at the top of the aisle. The organ played a bit more softly and two sets of girls, followed almost too quickly by two sets of boys, worked up the aisle to scatter rose petals and then hold the pillow with the rings. They giggled and grinned while the mothers heaved their exasperated sighs from their trapped positions.

As the music altered slightly again, John noted the three women gathered at the back of the church. The first, a dark-haired woman with soft eyes, snuck her own glances toward Branson and by the expansion of his chest and the glint of the ring on the woman's finger, John would have put safe money on this being Mrs. Crawley-Branson. She took her position at the front and the next woman started down the aisle.

The difference between the two was staggering. Where Mrs. Crawley-Branson held herself high with an air of one who did not care much for convention, this woman seemed almost crippled by it. Her jaw quivered and her large brown eyes darted about the room as if hoping no one noticed the torrent of emotions flooding her face. John nudged Branson, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

"Who's the blonde woman?"

"Edith, Sybil and Mary's sister. She's younger than Mary but older than Sybil." Branson sighed, "I always feel bad for Lady Edith because she wants so much and yet it's as if every turn is against her."

"How so?"

"Mary's a bit of a hog for attention and she snipes Edith any chance she gets." Branson shrugged, "Not that Edith takes it lying down but she's more content to be victim and martyr than to fight back. And when she does… it's not usually with all of her ducks in a row, if you know what I mean."

"So it's more like watching two alley cats scramble for scraps?"

Branson nodded, "I've seen street curs with more dignity in a fight than those two."

"Tragic."

John almost said something else but the last sight caught his eye. While everyone once else gave a gasp of surprise and adoration at Mary Crawley in her magnificent wedding dress, John could only focus on the woman holding the train. The woman whose hands managed it so delicately he knew she could find every stitch in it blindfolded.

Their eyes met for only a moment and she inclined her head just enough so John recognized the motion in his direction, but then she returned to her work. The professionalism in her pace, in her grip, and the line of her as she flared out the train and skirt for Mary to ascend the steps spoke of an artist. And when she waited for the vows and the rings before taking the edge of her dress in hand again, John found himself struggling to push a stray thought out of his mind begging for her to handle anything of his with as much care.

But whatever thoughts about Anna Smith John allowed to wander into his mind, found themselves pushed out of the way when a scream and an explosion rocked the church. He ducked down, pulling Branson with him, and peeked over the top of the pew to assess the damage. Fire roared by the entrance and Matthew pushed Mary back away from the flames as they licked and nipped at the door and the entryway.

Anna dragged the plethora of material away and, without thinking, John jumped over the edge of the pew toward them. The morning coat ripped, the jagged tearing sound only bothering John long enough to rip one side off his body to wrap around his face. Shaking the other off his arm, he handed it to Anna before flipping a knife from his pocket. He held it toward her, noting how she shredded the material in her hands as if it were nothing, and offered them to Matthew and Mary before securing her section over her nose and mouth, and she nodded.

It was like cutting a life line as John dragged the knife through the beautiful train and veil. The jagged edge caught and skidded but he managed to get enough away that the burning edges could be kicked toward the smoking and spitting doors. John flipped his knife closed and helped Anna push the bride and groom back from the entrance. Screams of terror finally reached John and he tried to call over the sound but his voice vanished in the din of panic.

Someone grabbed his shirt and John looked down to see Anna. She pointed toward a back entrance and mimed moving people toward the area. He nodded, pushing her slightly toward Mary and Matthew and then directing his arm toward the space. Anna grabbed the arms of the bride and groom, carrying them away as Matthew discarded his coat, tearing it to strips to hand out to those he passed. Mary followed suit, ripping the veil from her head, and did what she could as Anna shuffled them away.

John grabbed arms and canes and even collars to toss the occupants of the church toward the rear exit. They hustled and hurried, stumbling and bumping one another in their rush to escape the licking flames. But they tripped and some fell as Branson led a brigade with sand buckets like salmon upstream to try and halt the spread of the greedy fire.

Dodging them and still trying to get everyone out in whatever semblance of order he could manage, John ducked between pews to make sure no one was left behind. An older man, struggling to rise from the floor, had only the help of a man with a rather nasty gash coming from a rising bump on his forehead. John dipped down, hoisting both men to their feet, and then working the older of the two over his shoulders to carry. One hand held the man's leg while his other grabbed at the second man's collar to hustle them toward the rear door.

The smoke and noise deafened and choked John, even through his makeshift cover, and when he finally found sunlight again he blinked like a blind man seeing for the first time. Everywhere was chaos as mothers screamed for their children, fathers shouted at friends to locate the perpetrator, and the bridal party tried to settle the crowd and congregation to make attempts at a line for buckets.

John worked through the people, pushing and shoving when needed to get past the frantic and the frenzied, and found a bench occupied by a thin woman treating a shorter, portly woman breathing in wheezes and gasps. Forcing the man in his hand to sit down, John knelt to work the other man off his back and settled him on the ground. He grabbed the man's chin, looking in his eyes and then holding up a finger to get the man to follow the motion.

With a nod, John took a deep breath not clogged by smoke. "You're concussed sir and need to stay awake."

"He took a nasty fall." The man on the bench managed, trying to move but then wincing as a hand went to his head. "Someone shoved him in a hurry and he banged his head on the floor."

"What about you?" John pivoted on his toes, examining the other man.

"Someone's cane caught me above the eye." He gave a nervous laugh. "I'm just lucky it missed my eye."

"You certainly are." John took another deep breath, "If I leave you here will you be alright?"

"We'll be fine." The man with the bump swelling to resembling a goose egg wanted to hatch from under his skin shrugged. "It was already more than we're worth for you to help us."

"It's never too much to help someone." John extended a hand, "John Bates."

"Joseph Moseley." He pointed to the man on the ground, "And that's Albert Mason. He's a friend of mine."

"He's a friend of my daughter." The man blinking to keep himself awake mumbled with a smile into his beard. "He's been teaching her things."

"Mr. Moseley?" John frowned at Mr. Mason, "Please make sure you get him to a doctor as soon as you can manage it. He's not speaking coherently and I don't want to risk there being anything seriously wrong with him."

"We'll all be in a state if we can get out of this mess." The thin woman's voice was almost a whisper but John had the sneaking suspicion this was her normal volume.

"Are you trained to help them?" John drew his finger in a circle in midair around the two men and the woman swaying on her section of the bench.

"Trained enough." She smiled, "I'm Nurse Baxter."

"I'll send someone to help you, Ms. Baxter, as soon as I can."

"No need." She nodded over his shoulder and John dodged out of the way as a young girl practically tore to their sides, dragging another old man with her.

The girl fell on Mr. Mason, clutching him tightly as the second old man put a hand to Mr. Moseley's shoulder. "Are you alright son?"

"I'm fine Dad."

"I thought you fell behind."

"Mr. Mason-" Mr. Moseley stumbled and stuttered for words as his father's mustache twitched. "They would've trampled him and he's concussed."

"Concussed!" The girl shrieked and clung to Mr. Mason, huge wracking sobs taking over her body.

"He'll be alright Daisy," Ms. Baxter soothed, rubbing a hand over her shoulder. "He just needs rest and to have a doctor see to him. He'll be fine."

"What about Mrs. Patmore?" Daisy grabbed for the swaying woman, who then turned her head enough to not vomit all over Ms. Baxter or Daisy.

John gaped and then backed away from the scene, leaving the scene in what he hoped were capable hands. He turned back to the church, the crowd having backed away or dispersed as those families in possession of all their members fled from the fire. But with the smoke billowing half-heartedly and the rear of the building free of scorching, John peeked inside.

Sure enough there was Branson, with Matthew and the best man, leading their men with empty buckets out of the building. All were soot streaked and singed, smelling undesirably of burnt hair and skin. Branson nodded toward John and came up to him as Matthew broke off to see to his wife of less than an hour.

"Did you get that old man out?"

"They'll both be fine." John took a breath, almost afraid to ask. "What about in there?"

"No bodies but ours. Everyone got out safely, if not a little worse for wear on this fine Saturday." Branson dropped the empty buckets in his hand and slumped his weight on a low wall edging the path. "Who'd want to ruing a wedding?"

"The same people trying to bring down the Crawley mining venture most likely." John pulled at the fabric around his neck and laughed at it. "I guess I owe Lord Grantham a new morning coat."

"I'm sure he'll just be happy you're alive." Branson stood up again. "And I need to reassure my wife that I'm alive as well."

John nodded and kicked at a small rock. It pinged off the stone and hit the side of the church. He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, and turned on his heel to leave but stopped when he saw Anna there.

"I do hope you're not here to tell me how angry you are I destroyed the dress you slaved to make."

"If the circumstances hadn't been a choice between her life and the dress, I might be cross with you." Anna shrugged, "She's alive and everyone who attended her wedding is as well. Moreover, everyone saw the dress in its glory. The only dismal part is now I don't have enough fabric to make the christening dresses for her children."

"I don't know," John made a show of examining Mary, arguing with someone in the distance, "If she only has two you might have enough."

Anna laughed but her face fell almost immediately. John followed her eye line to see a man, the one who bumped his shoulder earlier, walking toward an immaculate Thomas Barrow. They exchanged a few words before the man walked away with his back toward them.

"His shirt." Anna's voice was barely audible but John turned to her.

"What about his shirt?"

"I mended a shirt yesterday with a rather extraordinary tear. One identical to the shirt that man wore." Anna's eyes flicked back and forth at the speed of her thoughts. "How odd to see him here."

"And talking to Thomas Barrow." John paused, "Although, Barrow did intimate something earlier."

"What?"

"He said he wouldn't wish me to enjoy the ceremony as it would make for unfair assumptions."

"Sometimes I think that man values his brains more highly than they're worth."

"He certainly maintains a very high opinion of himself." John pointed to the scrap of his morning coat dangling about her neck. "I hope that helped."

"It made it easier and I won't be coughing and spitting as much soot as some." Anna glanced back toward the path of the retreating man. "Something about him gives me a funny feeling."

"Like he doesn't belong here or like he might've been behind this?" John jerked a thumb toward the scorched church.

"I'm not one to believe in coincidence, Mr. Bates, so a man who came into town yesterday and had me repair a spare shirt with a tear in it you couldn't get from any work I recognize…" She shrugged, "That's someone who sets my teeth on edge."

"It's got my ears up." John offered her his hand, "Might I escort you home?"

"I think that'd be best." Anna sighed, placing her hand in his. "Though I apologize I won't get a chance to dance with you dressed in our finest."

"Then I'll need to find another occasion." John smiled, "If you're still willing."

"I think I'd be willing under a great many more dire circumstances." Anna grinned, "I never turn down the promise for dancing."

"Then it's a date."


	6. Dataller

Anna turned up from her stitching, pulling the glasses from the end of her nose as something brushed against the floor of her shop. She hurried from the workroom to see the door still closed and a shadow moving away through the frosted glass. With a frown she bent to see two notes there. One, written in a hasty hand, chilled her to the bone.

 _Stay away if you know what's good for you_.

She shivered, tucking the note away in a hurry, all but stuffing it into a lantern to burn it in a moment. Turning to the other note, she flicked the seal and a smile warmed her body before spreading over her face when she saw a ticket accompanied by a short script. Slipping the ticket away into her apron pocket, she turned the note to the light to read it better.

 _Might I have the pleasure of this dance?_

Anna laughed and then hurried to tuck the note away with the ticket as the bell sounded and she had to jump out of the door's path. Mr. Green stood there, his face bearing only a sheepish smile, and holding out the same shirt as before. "I'm afraid I might be requiring your services."

"So soon?" Anna checked the second note and ticket were secure and out of sight in her pocket before taking the shirt. "I thought you planned ahead Mr. Green."

"I do but this is a different injury." He hurried to point it out to her but Anna already found it, stretching the fabric to investigate. "Your repairs held up more than admirably."

"They always do." Anna peeked at him, "Are you a dataller, Mr. Green?"

"A what?"

"A day wage man. A temporary repairman coming around looking for work and occupation?" Anna pulled up a bit of the shirt, "This smells like you were near burning and either you were making charcoal or helping repair a road."

"I might've signed myself cooking something over a fire."

"A fire?" Anna's skin prickled and she worried her voice gave her away.

"It's all we could find."

"Are you not very good with the skillet?" Anna pointed to the dark fabric, the marks of ash and the singed material standing out under her observations. "It would seem you got a bit too close to the fire."

"I'm not much of a cook and thought burning dinner would hide that fact from everyone else."

Anna smiled, taking the shirt over to her bench and searching through her scraps to try and match the shirt. "It's the curse of the unexpected expectations I think."

"The what?"

She found a piece of fabric that matched well enough and measured it slightly larger than the section of the shirt for repair. "Those things we'll be called on to do that we never expected we needed preparation to handle."

"Have experience with that yourself?"

"More than I'd like to admit." Anna dug around for thread, ducked behind the table and catching a look at Mr. Green's shoes. The edges of the leather bore signs of scuffing and burning, as well as stone dust she thought appeared too familiar. But she righted herself, holding up the thread and working it expertly through a needle to immediately fix his shirt. "And sometimes it doesn't matter how much we prepare. We're never fully ready for what might lie ahead of us."

"Do you feel prepared for what you do, Ms. Smith?"

"I've been mending and sowing since I was knee high to a farm gate, Mr. Green." Anna worked her fingers quickly and expertly through the materials to pull them together. "Though I'd suggest you find a good washer woman to get out the smell and the ash from this shirt."

"Are you such a woman?"

"No." Anna snorted, "I have been but I'm not now. The washing will also tighten the fabric and make the repair less obvious."

"You know your trade."

"I'd hope so since I make a living from it." Anna finished, "It'll be the same price as last time."

"Given you repaired it in front of me I'd expect nothing less." He handed over the money and when their fingers met Anna suppressed a shudder. "Until the next repair, Ms. Smith."

"Until then Mr. Green." Anna waited until he left the shop before locking the door. But as her hand reached for the lock someone's knuckles rapped on the glass. She opened it to smile again, wondering if the size of her smile was genuinely reflected back at her in John's face. "Fancy seeing you."

"I do hope you got my note."

"I did." Anna beckoned him inside and then locked the door, her face growing serious. "And it wasn't the only one."

"Someone else wants to go dancing with you?"

"Someone else wanted to warn me off what we're doing. More to it," Anna waved her hand back at the door. "The shirt I told you about, the one I noticed on that man at the wedding, it was back in here today."

"On him?"

"He needed some burned sections of it repaired." Anna shivered, pulling at her fingers. "I think he might've been behind that attack on the church last week."

"Did he leave the note?"

"I don't know." Anna nodded at her lantern. "I burned it because I didn't want it terrifying me."

"So we've got a new man in town trying to russle up trouble?" John sighed, a hand going through his hair. "It'd explain the increase in rumblings and complaints at the mine."

"Are they organizing?"

"Them organizing to give demands to management isn't the problem. I can communicate with anyone and if people are talking then there's hope. The problem is when people resort to violence to get what they want because then no one wins. It becomes about revenge, vengeance, and death until we're all talking to one another again like we should've in the first place."

"That's poetic."

"That's the truth." John shrugged, "But maybe a bit poetic."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Mr. Bates." Anna looked him over, a grin stealing over her face, "You must read quite a bit."

"I've been known to devour a few books but if you're going to offer that I borrow some I'll have to refuse you on principle."

"And why is that?"

"Because they'll come back with the pages dotted in black dust and perhaps a few tears."

"Are you a sympathetic reader Mr. Bates?" Anna gathered a few things and moved toward the back of her shop, John following with steps more delicate than she considered possible for a man who stood so large above her.

"I weep rather consistently." He cringed, catching Anna's eye when she turned back to him from her workstation. "I do hope I haven't just unmanned myself in front of you."

"I'm sure I could find a kindred spirit in someone who occasionally dampens my pages with their honest tears." Anna shuddered, "Too many people don't read and not enough really delve into the plot."

"Should they?"

"It's a practice in empathy, Mr. Bates." Anna leaned back on the table, her fingers tracing a scrap of velvet. "There are lives lived, experiences had, and people loved that we'll never see in real life. Even if you could experience a fraction of the lives lived by those we pass by on a daily basis, we'd never find the depth and breadth we need to truly understand or comprehend their struggle. If we read it then we can."

"You believe reading expands the heart?"

"And enlightens the mind." Anna pulled a piece of fabric toward her and folded it as she drew her chair back out. "But I think it's a conversation for another time."

"Is now not a good time?"

"I'm sure you and I both have work we need to do." Anna winked at him, waving the ticket and the note at him before slipping them back into her pocket with fingers deft enough to sow in a straight line with tiny, precise stitches. "And I'll see you this evening."

"Might I request the pleasure of accompanying you there myself?"

"I'd be rather offended if you had someone else do it." Anna smiled and waved him toward the door. "I think you've other duties that require your attention and it's best if you get to them."

"I'll not delay your work any longer." John nodded at her, fingers worrying the edge of his hat. "I do hope it's all been well… with you, since the fire…"

"I wasn't even singed." Anna stopped, noting his face. "Are you alright?"

"It's just…" He took a tentative step forward and Anna put a hand out to cover his on his hat. "I worried for you. I worried for everyone but…"

"I understand." Anna stopped him, her fingers moving around his hand. "I worried for you more than I did for the others."

"With the note you received and the trouble with the miners I… I worry that perhaps you might be caught in the middle of all this if you continue to associate with me."

"You think someone might set fire to my shop or me because they see me with you?"

"It's possible. They've already passed you a message telling you not to and now I wonder if it was a mistake to involve you in this."

"Mr. Bates." Anna waited until his eyes met hers. "I couldn't feel more flattered than I do, right now, that you want to protect me. I've… I've never had anyone who wanted to do that for me and it's beautiful."

"I didn't-"

"However," Anna stopped his argument, putting a finger to his lips. They both froze, looking at the placement of her hand, and Anna quickly removed it. "However, I make my own decisions and I need you to respect the fact that you can't do this without me."

"And I've no desire to." His other hand took the one she clenched at her side. Now all of her fingers tingled the way the one that had touched his lips did. "But I would be remiss if I didn't warn of the dangers of throwing in with me."

"You make it sound like we're going to become bandits on the highway."

They both laughed for a moment but John grew somber again. "There are those who might take their business elsewhere. They'll call you names if they find out what you're doing to help me. It could become very dangerous."

"Mr. Bates," Anna shifted her hands in his grip so her fingers covered his palms and she could hold them tightly to her. "After everything I've been through in my life, after all the things you've endured in your own, might we just have this evening? Can't we just let that be enough?"

John nodded and raised his hands to lay a kiss on both of her hands at the knuckle. His thumbs ran over the dips from the bone and then he removed his fingers from her grip. "Then I'll be here at half past six."

"And I'll wear a dress for dancing." Anna walked him back to the front of the shop, nodding at the two women perusing the fabric options stacked along the walls. "I do hope you have a pleasant day Mr. Bates."

"And I hope the same for you Ms. Smith." John replaced his hat and left the shop with a tinkle of the bell.

Anna took a moment to fill her lungs, holding her breath until she was sure the brush of color to her cheeks dissipated. When it did she rounded on the women. "How might I help you ladies today?"

The remainder of the day was spent between her mending in the back, the large quilt someone commissioned, and occasionally selling fabric to those who came into the shop. Her fingers took on the indentations of the needle, the thimble, and the pencil as she took measurements, wrote out receipts, and then managed the payments. When her shop closed at six, Anna took the box with the earnings of the day and removed it from the front of the shop.

She locked the doors, drawing the curtains, and managed her lantern in one hand while the other held the box to the back room. There she pulled the edge of a rolling fabric rack to expose a wall with an inset safe. Setting the lantern on the table, she spun the dial to open the safe. Counting out the money for the day, a careful tally marking the sources and the possible outlying credit, Anna tucked it safely inside and replaced the ledger.

The heavy door closed and Anna spun the dial back before replacing the rack. After a moment it appeared as nothing more than the wall and Anna pulled open the door to the tight stairs that led to the second level of the shop. These she ascended to find her small kitchen, sitting room, and the bedroom waiting for her. Even in the growing dark there was no menace here, just a feeling of swaddled comfort Anna enjoyed as she lit the candles and used the lights from the lamps outside to help her navigate the space.

In moments she recognized her options for dancing dresses where rather more limited than she imagined. However she finally found one, stuffed away at the back of the wardrobe, and removed it to allow the material to slide over her fingers. It shimmered in the light and part of Anna wondered if perhaps such a dress might be more fitting at another venue but when she caught sight of the time on the hanging clock she realized there was no time for another choice.

Swiftly transferring the ticket to a small handbag, and the note to the drawer beside her bed, Anna made herself presentable. The little face paint she did have struggled to apply evenly in the shadows of the room but Anna worked around it and hoped the darkness might hide the possible flaws. Her dress hung well, granting her a moment of self-indulgence to spin in the sight of her mirror, and she retrieved her shoes before piling her hair atop her head.

Once it hung in her preferred style she heard a knock at the door below. Anna scrambled for her things, blowing harder than she intended to extinguish the candles in her flat to leave heated wax to dry over the wooden surfaces. But when all was as dark as before, the candles all safely extinguished, she rushed to grab the lantern and manage her shoes one-handed. Saved from a tumble down the back stairs purely by providence, Anna reached the floor of her shop and stuffed her arms into her coat sleeves before opening the door.

There, dressed in his best Sunday suit, stood John. Anna clamped her mouth shut to keep her jaw from dropping to her chest, and set the lantern to the side with a weak hand. John's eyes, even in the darkness, sparkled and gleamed as he looked her over and Anna wondered why she bothered with a coat when his gaze alone could keep her warm for the evening.

"Shall we?"

Anna nodded, reaching out a hand to hold his. John paused, nodding at the lantern, and when Anna failed to blow it out three times John dipped forward. He licked two of his fingers and extinguished the light with a splutter of the tiny flame. His smile took over his face as he offered Anna his arm.

"Shall we?"

"You already said that." Anna managed, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and turning back only long enough to lock the door to her shop and tuck the key into the handbag.

"And you never gave me an answer."

"I assumed the fact that I stepped out the door with you would be enough."

"My mother taught me never to assume."

"Then your mother was a wiser woman than me." Anna stopped, halting their progress, and looked John right in the eye. "Yes, Mr. Bates, we shall."

"Then we shouldn't delay a moment longer."

They walked to the hall, music and light lifting their spirits before they even reached the door, and presented their tickets to the woman there. She waved them in before stuffing the tickets into a box. Anna edged nearer to John as they joined the crush of people working their way through the small foyer before reaching the interior of the building.

Here the music livened, calls and greetings mixing with loud conversation and laughter that ran the gambit from soft and flirtatious to heavy and bawdy. John helped Anna from her coat and handed it with his to the man checking them. When he turned to face her again Anna noted the drop in his jaw reflecting the one she barely contained at her doorstep. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly and Anna took his hand.

"Come now Mr. Bates. I'm sure you've seen a dress before."

"Not one that made me come over as insensible as this one." John reached out a finger, tracing it barely on the edge of a frill before pulling back. "I apologize. That was a liberty I shouldn't have taken."

"I promise you, Mr. Bates, there are not greater compliments to an artist as the appreciation of her work." She slipped her fingers over his hand. "Shall we dance?"

"I think it would destroy the purpose of the evening if we were to do otherwise." John led her to the floor, taking her into position as the band in the corner warned the beat of the next song. "Though I think that dress is far too fine for the venue of the evening."

"I thought so too but I mismanaged my time this afternoon and this was the result." They started to glide about the floor. "I thought suits such as yours were meant only for Sundays."

"They are, normally, but the only other fine thing I own was my military uniform and one shouldn't wear it when they're no longer in service. It's disrespectful."

"I can't say I know the etiquette one way or another for it." Anna admitted, measuring her steps as she tried to anticipate John's moves about the floor.

But his hand at her shoulder tightened slightly and forced her eyes to meet his. "Trust me, Ms. Smith, and I promise to neither step on your toes nor led you astray."

"I'm sorry." Anna let her body relax, but only just, in his hold. "It's been some time since I've been dancing and I might be a tad nervous."

"It's been some time since I had a lady as lovely as yourself in my arms so I'm more than nervous."

"Were you not once married?" Anna risked and noted the crease in John's forehead. "I'm sorry, I've overstepped."

"Not at all." John shrugged, maneuvering them around another couple. "Since I engaged you for the evening you've a right to know the details of the man who could, perhaps, ruin your reputation."

"I doubt a man that Robert Crawley holds in such high esteem would be so careless."

"I could say the same of you."

Anna grinned, "I'm a very careful person."

"Are you?"

"Very." She paused, holding the beat of the music. "But not so careful that I haven't been tempted by those things one shouldn't want when they occupy the position of life I do."

John took his turn to pause, the red rising along his neck. "Have you?"

"A woman can be the bastion of desires that are… not wholly pure, Mr. Bates."

"Of that I've no doubt." He turned them again. "But in answer to your question, I was once married. That mistake will be rectified within the week as the government terminates what I thought naught but death could sever."

"You sound almost gleeful about that."

"My wife wasn't faithful to me and, when I really considered it, I knew we never really loved one another."

"Never?"

"It's difficult to love what you're trying to possess."

"I see."

"I truly hope not." John shuddered and Anna stepped closer to him as the song ended.

"Whatever pain you endured by her hand, or even if by your own action, that is something someone else can still understand."

"I hope it's through the empathy you suggested comes from literature and not hard experience."

"We've all taken our beatings from life, Mr. Bates." Anna took form again as the next song started. "I can assume our licks have only been slightly different but they come from the same master with the same purpose."

"Which would be what?"

"To learn." Anna pulled John into the steps. "And what lessons they've been."

"Truly."


	7. Afterdamp

John escorted Anna back to her shop, his hand over hers on his arm. She giggled at his joke, hiding her face behind her hand, and John could not stop beaming. They kept pace with one another, the cool of the evening giving them both the shivers, but John wondered if that was the only reason she shivered. His shivers had very little to do with the cool wind.

A lamplighter skirted them, tipping his hand and watching his swinging pole to ensure it did not hit either of them as they crossed paths on the pavement, and Anna sighed. "What a thankless job."

"Lamplighters?"

She nodded, "They've got to be out all night trimming lamps, lighting them, checking them, filling them, and then dousing them in the morning. They're constantly covered in oil and soot and wax and more than a little singed and bruised. Especially the younger ones." The pitying sigh she gave the nameless man who crossed their path swelled John's chest. "It's just a shame no one really notices what they do until they're not doing it."

"Isn't that life though?" John let her lead the way across the empty street. "We don't notice what we don't have until it's gone?"

"More often than not." Anna paused in front of her door, hands manipulating her small bag. "I don't suppose I should invite you inside."

"Given the hour and our respective duties I'd say, probably not." John shrugged up his shoulders, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Not that I'd have any ability to say no if you did."

"Mr. Bates," Anna huffed her feigned affront, hand on her chest. "What kind of woman must you think me?"

"The best of them."

It slipped out before John could even connect his brain fully with his mouth. His eyes widened, mouth fumbling and opening only to shut again in a rush. He took a hand to his hair, as if pushing through it might also push back time to replace his words with something else, and then tried to say something else. Maybe he could help her- help them- forget he ever said anything at all.

But before he could say anything she spoke, her voice soft but still audible. "I think you are the best as well."

Neither could look at one another, both finding anywhere to look but at the person standing less than a foot away from them. Eventually John summoned his breath, and his courage, to meet her eyes. The silence between them held every hope humankind ever had while gazing at someone who meant more than they were supposed to in a brief period. With nothing more than a few conversations, a few deep comments that bared their souls to veritable strangers, and finally revealed themselves to themselves.

"Ms. Smith-"

"Mr. Bates-"

They both stopped, laughing to both express their nerves and try to burn off the anxiety of the moment bearing down on them. When they recovered themselves, John opened his hand to Anna. "Please, ladies first."

"Thank you." Anna pulled at the fabric of her bag. "I think… I think there's a difficulty being in the position we occupy."

John frowned, "I don't understand."

"It's…" Anna took a breath, "We've known one another less than a month and yet it's difficult to deny that I feel very strongly about you in a way I can't really express."

"Words don't often fail me either but I do know what you mean." John brought his other hand from his pocket. "I want to be near you, Ms. Smith, as much as I can and I've no real reason for why."

"Me either." Anna gave him a smile, the tugs of emotions played over her face until she simply let the small smile settle. "I feel like we're more of the same than we are different."

" _Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same_." John paused, "It's… It's from a-"

"I've read _Wuthering Heights_." Anna put out her hand, almost as if she fought herself in her desire to touch him. John closed the distance and allowed their fingers to entangle. "I rather enjoyed it."

"So did I." John took a breath, "That's what I feel, with you Ms. Smith."

"Me too." Anna inched a step closer to him. "And while I won't invite you up to mine for a drink or whatever kind of polite gesture I'd use to cover what would inevitable be a threat on our mutual virtues, I will beg your indulgence for a very unladylike request."

"Unladylike?"

"Well," Anna managed a bit of a nervous grin. "I'm not a lady, and I don't pretend to be so-"

"You're a lady to me." John hurried, biting on his tongue at the thought of interrupting her but realizing she stopped to hear him. "You are, Ms. Smith. And I dare say I've never met a finer one than you."

"Then," The muscles in her throat drew his eye a moment as she swallowed before staring him down from her diminutive height. "Would you do me the honor of a kiss goodnight, Mr. Bates?"

"I believe," John stepped closer, leaving nothing between them but the rustle of material as their clothes brushed over one another and reminded them of the feeble barriers separating their scorching skins, "It would be my great privilege to honor your request."

Neither of them breathed. It might ruin the moment. But as John dipped his head, and Anna used a gentle hand on his waistcoat to steady herself when she rose on her tiptoes, the world stopped for them. All life halted as if to take part in the grand expression of inexpressible emotions through one of the simplest acts shared between two people.

And then the world started again.

Their lips met gently, tentative and frightened that the other might decide to pull away at the last moment. Afraid of appearing the fool in a farce put on for the amusement of those hiding in the shadows of the night. Afraid they had failed to encapsulate the extent of their emotions and this would reveal the disparity between their respective emotions.

None of those fears manifested.

John's hands, ignorant of the best position at first, found themselves slotted rather comfortably at her waist and fitted along her jaw. Her fingers did not remain stagnant on his waistcoat and soon found that curling into the material kept them closer together. And both of them soon learned the curves and dips of the other's mouth enough to adjust deeper in their care.

Edging his tongue along the bottom of Anna's lip, John's ears twitched at a sound. Anna's grip on his made him ignore the noise until it sharpened and suddenly John broke away, pivoting in an instant to put his body between whatever came for them and Anna. The noises of shock she gave at his reaction silenced the moment the other woman's shape solidified in the dark.

"Well, well, I see why you were so quick with filing those papers." Vera sniffed at them, the unflattering sneer that took the edge of her mouth higher raised John's hackles.

"It was in motion before I came here, Vera. You know that and I'll not have you involving any of my friends in our private affairs."

"Interesting choice of words." Vera paced, trying to peek at Anna but John blocked her view. "First, I don't think you treat all of your friends like that so I must wonder… Did you snog Colonel Lord Robert Crawley like that?"

John ground his teeth, "Leave, Vera."

"Second, I think your use of the word 'affairs' might suggest you've already taken a few liberties with the virtue of this little pixie here." She ticked up another finger, "And thirdly-"

"That's enough Vera." John's voice lowered and he risked a step away from Anna to try and stop Vera but the other woman dodged back. "I'm not going to chase you like a child reaching for candy and I'll not follow you anywhere. If that's what you want and you're going to be very disappointed."

"Then you don't understand me at all." Vera held something in her fingers, wagging it about before flinging it toward John. It fluttered toward the ground but John refused to bend to retrieve it. "I found that in your things and thought it was the cruelest joke you've ever played on me."

John frowned, bending to retrieve the scrap from the ground. It caught the flicking yellow-brown light from the fresh lamp above them and John closed his eyes. As he stood, holding the photograph close, he met Vera's bitterly satisfied smile.

"Are you happy now?" John held the photograph toward her, ruined with scratches through the image and what might have been more than a few stubbed fags. "Now that you've destroyed everything we shared?"

"You only kept that because it was the only photograph you had of her." Vera spit at John's feet, leaning around him to nod at Anna. "I don't know what primrose path he's trotted you down but I do know that you're making a mistake if you stay with him."

"Please leave Vera."

"What?" Vera held her hands up, as if asking how she could possibly be the target of anyone's ire. "Afraid I'll tell her how you used to drink and then we'd go at it like rabbits? Or about how your mother was always first above me? Or about how everything will always be first be her? Or how you'll never quite be the man you want to be but you're enough like your father to-"

John crunched the photograph in his hand and turned on his heel to address Anna. "I deeply regret this, Ms. Smith, but I need to leave immediately. In other circumstances I'd like to wish you a better good night but this will have to suffice for now. I do hope you won't think less of me."

"I-" Anna struggled to speak over Vera's snorted response and inevitable interruption.

"Acting polite now? What? Can't face me in front her? Want to preserve some false image of yourself you gave the poor thing? Afraid she'll know the truth?"

"I think it's best you do leave." Anna drew her key from her bag. "I don't want to cause a scene."

John only nodded, almost reaching for her hand before Vera's guffaw stopped him. Anna could only give him the encouragement of her eyes before vanishing into her shop. The moment the door closed John turned on his heel and stalked back toward his temporary housing.

Vera dogged him all the way there, chattering and nagging back through the pub and drawing the attention of a few faces John recognized before they returned to their drinks. His skin crawled as he imagined the gossip and stories they would spread about him with what little they gathered from the interaction. The darkly humorous thought that plagued John's mind, over the inane yammering Vera continued in his ear, was how much he would prefer the lurid stories to the horrible truth.

The corridor toward their rooms held only one maid but she vanished in a moment and John aimed for his room. But when he opened the door, hoping the wood between he and his wife would solve the problem, it was not the sanctuary he imagined. Vera pushed in after him, closing the door with a definitive snap.

"Now that I've got you alone…" She leered at him, her lips curling around teeth that appeared far more canine than they had any right to.

"It's no different than before." John tightened his grip and blinked, the photograph mangling further in his hand. He pulled it as straight as he could, the crimped and wrinkled edges obscuring the image of his mother beside him while Vera sat on his right arm for the photograph after their wedding. With a sniff, John faced Vera again. "I've moved on with my life and you need to do the same."

"I beg your pardon."

"Whatever the means to you Vera and however you wish to accomplish it, do it." John stared at the photograph one final time before dropping his arm and tossing the only remaining evidence of his mother's face into the weak flames of a barely stoked fire. "But I won't be there. We're not those people anymore and we never will be again. Whoever you are, from this moment forward, you are without me."

"We're still married."

"In a few days we won't be. We'll be strangers to one another and I hope we can remain so until the end of our lives." John went about the room, gathering his things to pack them back into his bags. "And while you'll not believe this, because you never believed me when I was honest, I bear you no ill will. And if we were to meet in some random spot, years from now, I'd hope you found your happiness."

"Where?"

"Anywhere with anyone you choose." John finished packing, closing his bags and pulling them away from the bed. "It just won't be with me."

His hand was on the door when Vera's shot out, digging her nails into his skin like claws. "And what if I have something to say about it?"

"Then you should've written it in a letter ten years ago. Or in a note five years ago. Or to your solicitor one year ago." John pried her fingers away, "You had all the time in the world to say a great many things about it. None of the things you said were helpful or productive or enticed me to stay so I can promise that whatever doors you thought might've remained opened are forever closed."

He pulled his bags into the corridor, pulling the door shut on her as he walked away for what he hoped was the last time.

* * *

Anna removed her glasses, rubbing at her eyes as she stared at the notes before her. "I'm not one for knowing handwriting if that's why you asked me here."

"It's more that you could tell us if any of these notes match those you received." Matthew clenched his teeth in a cringe. "I do hope you don't mind Mr. Bates telling us about the note."

"I don't mind." Anna put her glasses back on, studying the notes before her again and then tapping one. "That's the closest but I can't be sure it's an exact match."

"Enough of one is fine." John lifted the note, handing it over to Matthew while he gathered the other notes with his hand. "We're convinced Mr. Barrow wrote a few of the others."

"The more prosaic ones I'd imagine." Anna leaned back in her chair, removing her glasses to tap the tip of the temple against her teeth. "Thomas has always been one for words and he's relatively well-read."

"If there's poetry in them we'll find it." John handed Matthew the others and lowered his voice to speak to Anna. "I'd like to apologize, about the other night."

Anna frowned at him, tucking her glasses away. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"It must've been rather awkward, for you, to experience that."

"It was a bit unsettling." Anna put her hand over John's where it rested on his knee under the table. "But I've seen far worse than a well-managed spat on the pavement."

"It's more what she said." John ground his teeth. "I realized that I haven't been entirely honest with you and-"

"Mr. Bates," Anna stopped him, "I'll have you know that it wouldn't matter what I found out about you. It wouldn't change what I think of you one bit."

"But it could."

"I don't live in a world ruled by the fear of what _could_ happen because I appreciate a world where I make my own future." Anna ran her fingers over his hand. "And, at this moment, I think our more important goal is figuring out who's taking the time to send threatening letters to the Crawley Mining Company."

"I'd hate to waste your valuable time." John winked at her.

"I didn't say it was valuable."

"But it is. Your trade is one of time and craft. We're denying you that privilege by holding you hostage here."

"If I felt the least bit-"

But whatever Anna hoped to say she would have done died on her tongue. A rattled boom shook the room around them and John's hands immediately pushed her under the table. Another blast rocked them and his body covered hers as if he would hold them together by the power of his desire to protect her.

That worry never realized. The room settled and John put his hands to Anna's face, as if to ascertain her wellness without words, and then guided her out from under the table so he could dash out the door with Matthew on his heels. She settled a moment, fingers trembling as she examined herself. And when she found nothing wrong, despite the continuing tremor in her hands, she followed the two men outside.

Chaos greeted her and Anna stayed near the office building to survey the scene. Men covered in grime and soot and dust scattered around screaming at one another while digging their fingers in their ears or stretching their jaws. A few other men, ones fresh on the scene or doing other jobs, hurried to pull men away from the opening of the mineshaft or bring around buckets of water.

Another explosion shook the ground from under them and Anna gripped tightly to the railing of the stairs to hold herself aloft. A tumble down the slick steps would send her flying, arms and skirts akimbo, and given the scene before her this was neither the time nor the place to need the help of men already struggling to see to themselves. She waited for the shaking to die down and then took the stairs to the ground before joining the nearest bucket brigade.

The men around her were not men. They were part of the earth that moved and writhed and howled. She saw to their thirst until her bucket was empty and then offered it to a man as he went to vomit. Her skirt wiped grime from eyes as hands clawed to see before turning to bandages for weeping wounds and smaller cuts. She worked her way through the field of blackened men and tried to make sense of their needs while not wallowing in the overwhelming feeling that she did not belong there.

Women from town arrived, screaming and crying themselves as they searched for husbands, brothers, fathers, beaus, and cousins in the crowd. They brought water, food, and enough tears to do the work of the hot baths that would run black that evening. And they brought supplies.

Slowly they brought order with lines and companies organizing as the terror and fear of the initial blasts faded with the slowing aftershocks. Company leaders took tally of their men, dismissing those accounted for to better clear the field and ensure the necessary care went to those most in need. With the crowd thinning, Anna hoped she might find John but he was nowhere to be seen.

Searching the space, the company commanders only offering vague platitudes, and none of the workers keen to stay so close to the location of their almost-fatal demise, Anna soon stood alone. She wrung her hands, craning her neck toward the entrance of the mine, when a hand came down on her shoulder. Her jump startled the owner and they gasped at one another until Anna calmed.

"Don't frighten me like that Mr. Branson. I've nearly lost my head in all this mess and I'm sick to death with worry."

"So am I. I can't find Matthew and Mary's apoplectic given the explosions and the inevitable afterdamp."

Anna frowned, "The what?"

"If he went down into the shaft then he might suffocate." Branson hurried to explain as the blood drained from Anna's face. "It's a mixture of the vapors and it'll replace the air down there. There's nothing to breathe and Matthew knows that so he wouldn't go down there."

"But if they're not here then-"

Again, Anna's thought interrupted with noise and a tremor. But the tremor this time was Branson's exuberant shaking of her shoulder before he pelted toward the shaft. There Matthew, supported heavily on John, emerged with another man. They staggered like a sickening attempt at a four-legged race before Branson tried to catch all three men at once. They collapsed into him and Anna rushed to their aid, if only to extract a coughing and spluttering John.

"Are you alright?" John could only nod and Anna hurried to find one of the water buckets so he could clear his throat.

He grabbed it with no preamble and drank what did not splash and soak his face. His gasping wheezes had Anna simultaneously slapping his back and hurrying for another bucket to try and clear his mouth of the grime and black. When this one as half drunk he pushed it away to spit and spew to the side before he croaked a few words.

"What did we get ourselves into?" He wheezed but Anna could only shake her head. "Men almost died down there."

"Did anyone?"

"No," Matthew answered, pushing himself up to lean on Branson before they pulled the other man between them. "Mr. Talbot saw to that."

"Stupid blighter almost got himself trapped down there." Branson scoffed at the man lolling a smile between them. "Our intrepid engineer."

"Someone's got to have the brains." Talbot whispered in a voice more hoarse than John's. "And I felt something was up."

"What?"

Talbot shook his head. "Just that sense you get where all your hair goes on end. Something wasn't right and I could feel it in my gut."

Anna went to ask him something else but Branson held up a hand. "Let's all reconvene when we're all breathing normally and not possibly killing ourselves being heroes."

The three men began their four-legged race and Anna bent down to offer John a hand. "Can you stand?"

"I think so." He took her hand all the same and they managed to get to their feet, John leaning as much on Anna as he dared while they staggered back toward the offices. "This shouldn't have happened."

"The fire?"

"Any of it. We're careful. We take precautions."

"It's nature John, it does what it-" Anna sniffed, her face scrunching.

John stopped, sniffing with her, "What do you smelled?"

"It's odd but…" Anna performed a slow, tight circle before leaning close to John and inhaling deeply. "It's coming from you."

"What is?"

"That smell." Anna shut her eyes, digging desperately through her memory. "It's there, somewhere."

"What is?"

"This smell." She jabbed toward his shirt, opening her eyes. "I've smelled it recently. It was on a piece of cloth and…"

Anna almost dropped John when her hand slapped against her forehead. "Of course."

"Of course what?"

"The smell was on Mr. Green's shirt when he brought it in for the second repair. The repair that made it look like his shirt had been singed in a fire."

John stopped trying to get them toward the office, risking a look back toward the mineshaft. "It wasn't just a fire. It spread too quickly and rose too high. It was deliberate."

"Sabotage?"

"With a lot of planning." John wagged a finger, coughing to the side before he spoke again. "Talbot said something was off about everything down there. He must've smelled it too and the fumes alerted him."

"It doesn't smell normal, whatever it is."

"An accelerant?" John suggested and Anna shook her head.

"It might be. I don't use anything powerful to light fires in my house beyond a match but whatever the reek is all over you and wafting out over the afterdamp in there, it was on Mr. Green's shirt."

"You could swear to that?"

"I was a laundress in my childhood and I've been mending clothes for a very long time. I know stains and smells and I remember them." Anna bit the inside of her cheek. "I think this Mr. Green was involved in all this."

"We've not got proof of that."

"We've got my nose."

"For the moment," John tapped her nose and then pointed to the office. "We'll let you keep your nose and get ourselves in side before we continue with our conspiracy theories."

Anna nodded, "You're right. You're in no state right now to do anything."

"I can be with you." John gave her a smile and both warmed Anna's heart and sent a shudder down her spine. "What?"

"We need to get the black off your teeth before you do that again."


	8. Judd and Jenkin

John tapped his fingers against his arm, noting the silence around the library as Matthew, Tom, Talbot, the Colonel, Mary, and Anna all contemplated the notes spread over the table before them in light of the information shared. Mary's fingers curled around her arms, holding tightly to them as the frown etched itself deep into the line of her mouth and those in her forehead.

"You think you're doing a good thing and someone decides you're the Devil incarnate, waiting to destroy the earth." She shook her head, "Why do we even bother to try?"

"I do hope that's a rhetorical question." Matthew winced toward her, covering one of her hands and easing it better into his grip to allow her shoulders to ease the tension there. "We've not got as many enemies as all that."

"No, we've just got enemies willing to burn a church and then kill over a hundred men to try and shut us down." Mary turned to Colonel Crawley. "I do hope you're not caving to pressure to shut down the mine."

"Given it's the major source of our income I don't think poverty would suit any of my daughters." He paused, biting the inside of his cheek. "Well, Sybil might manage it with Branson."

Tom snorted, "She manages it better than I would."

"We're getting off track." Matthew cut in, still keeping one of Mary's hands in his own, his thumb drawing comfortable circles as if to keep the beast inside her at bay. "The question is what would anyone have to gain from shutting us down?"

"Other than the lack of our influence in this city?" Mary shrugged, "My bet is we're experiencing the undesirable backlash of someone jealous of our position."

"It's not always about money, Mary."

"Perhaps," John cleared his throat and the occupants of the table turned to him. "Lady Mary's not wrong."

"Thank you."

"But," John held up a finger, "I don't think it's a simple as you'd like to think."

"Why not?"

"Planning." John shrugged, "If someone just hated you then they'd try to embarrass you or make a public show. They wouldn't risk killing innocents in the way unless it's bigger than you."

"It's not big enough that another accident could destroy our financial stability or, perhaps, cripple our business for years?" Colonel Crawley snorted, "I guess my priorities have been too far out of focus."

"Apologies, sir, but it's not just about you." John rubbed his hands together, "Riots from those feeling oppressed against their oppressors, or perceived oppressors, are not uncommon. In fact, I'd argue that the larger issue at play here is that we've not got a good organizational structure for the lodging of complaints."

"This isn't going to solve itself with a box marked for suggestions." Mary turned to Talbot. "You're the engineer, what do you think?"

"I think Mr. Bates is correct, this is bigger than just a grudge." Talbot opened his hands to the table, "There are a lot of… disgruntled individuals, of course. They work long hours, their lives are in danger, and there is a significant risk to everything else. One mistake and their pay, meager though it is, no longer provides the minimal security on which they can rely. That can lead to fear and fear, unchecked or unresolved, evolves into anger and resentment."

"Resent what, a good job?"

"Have you worked in the mines yourself, Lady Mary?" She shifted in her seat, refusing to meet Talbot's eyes. "I've worked for a few operations and while I think the Crawley Mining Company's interest in better machinery, shorter hours, and higher pay are admirable, they'll never hope to match that kind of grander to which you've become accustomed. Not if they worked in those mines twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of their lives."

"And that entitles them to try and kill us?" Mary shook her head, raising a finger to Talbot. "If that mine no longer exists then who pays the people? It may not be much and I'll try not to sound like a benevolent god, but without us there is no Cardiff. It's the purpose of the aristocracy to provide a living to the people around them… Otherwise we're of about as much use as a glass hammer."

"And I'm not arguing that your family has invested time and effort into this city at no small cost to yourselves. I admire it and it's why I work for this company. But there are others," Talbot winced, "Who believe they're entitled to what you have and that a twist of fate in birth shouldn't give you more than they have."

"Socialists." Colonel Crawley's hackles rose and Tom sighed. "They're the ones demanding we all share and share alike."

"That's a very narrow view of Socialism." Tom interrupted, "Have you even read the book Marx and Engels published to explain what that means?"

"I don't read literature that demands my class bow to the voice of the masses and hand over what my ancestors slaved to build."

"The harder truth would be to acknowledge that slaves were the ones who built it." Tom muttered but the rise of color in the Colonel's cheeks had John cutting in before he could turn this conversation into a political war of ideologies.

"I think these individuals aren't doing this for anything but personal gain." John waited a second, ensuring all eyes on him, and continued. "Given the conversations I've had with the men, the kind of people to do this are looking to benefit themselves and no one else."

"So someone wants to dissemble our company piece by bloody piece to do what?" The Colonel held up his hands, "Get back at my family?"

"It might not be about your family, particularly, but more… conveniently."

Mary laughed, "I appreciate a pragmatic villain. Heaven forbid this have been a personal vendetta because that would've been too easy. I could've provided a list of possible suspects that I can now tear up."

"What exactly is lost if the mine shuts down and the company goes bankrupt?" John eyed Mary, still shaking her head at the unbelievability of it all.

"We lose the mine, for one." The Colonel put a hand through his hair. "We'd probably lose the castle and most of the businesses in Cardiff would close. Without the customers to buy anything they'd have no money. Without the mine there is no money to spend and there are no other jobs around to make it worth the while for all the people who already live in the city. We'd be swimming in those without work. It'd start a panic, starvation, and violence."

"We'd go to the dogs, in simple terms." Mary turned to Matthew, "Perhaps we should've gone back to England before someone unknown assailant threatened our very existence here."

"What about the mine?" Anna finally spoke and the table quieted. "When I took out a loan for the shop and finally paid it back, my first order of business was to insure the premises and my occupation. I didn't want to lose it all and then have to build from scratch again."

"I took out insurance on the castle and the mine." The Colonel turned to Matthew. "You oversaw those papers. What did they tell you?"

"The insurance could cover the mine and provide a small settlement for each of the men employed but it wouldn't last them more than a year, less if they've more children than two." Matthew shook his head, "But Robert's right. The town would cease to exist without the mine."

"Then perhaps it's a matter of money." Anna folded her hands on the table. "In the case of the insurance policy I have on my property, should the damage be inflicted by me then I get nothing. If it's proved that outside forces were involved then I recoup my losses."

"A fire in a church and an obvious accelerant aren't going to prove we've mismanaged our property." Matthew wagged his finger between he and the Colonel. "We'd still collect on the insurance had the worst happened in both of those scenarios."

"Nothing for the church." Mary mused, "We don't own it and we had nothing to do with that one."

"Then why attack a church?" Tom crossed himself reflexively. "It's got no connection to the mine."

"Black cats." John tapped a finger on the table and roused himself when he noticed all eyes on him. "Black cat crosses your path and it's bad luck."

"We know the saying." The Colonel narrowed his eyes, "Why are you saying it now? What's the relevance?"

"To paint you all in a negative light, I think." John breathed out, "Lose the support of the people and you're in about as rough a state as losing the mine. If you lose both then…"

"When the violence starts you're the first to go." Talbot shuddered, "I'd hate to see the version of the French Revolution that takes place in Cardiff."

"So would I." The Colonel swallowed, "If I'm hearing all of this right, theses notes, the fires, and the general disconnect of some force we've only got a vague connection to, are all to try and swindle my family out of our position and set the town against us?"

"It would seem the long and the short of it." Mary finally released herself from Matthew's grip. "Because I wanted nothing more than to die as the result of disgruntled mine operators having themselves a riot."

"In our defense," John risked again, "We're off the back foot."

"This isn't Judd and Jenkin," Talbot shook his head at John. "We've got the 'why' but not the 'how' or the 'when' or even the 'who' except for some mystery man that Ms. Smith only knows as Mr. Green."

"I know he'll come to the shop again."

Tom raised an eyebrow, "And how'll you manage to lure him in?"

"I won't have to." Anna pulled the fingers of one hand with the other. "I've… I've noticed that he's quite taken with me. I'd not go so far as to say infatuated or enamored but he's made no secret of his interest on our last two encounters."

"So he'll rip another shirt the next time he ties to destroy my family's legacy." The Colonel pushed himself away from the table. "Wonderful. I couldn't be more pleased that we've got to wait for that to catch the bastard."

"To be fair," Tom raised a finger, risking the wrath gathering on the Colonel's face. "We've no proof."

"Ms. Smith said-"

"I trust Anna's nose, no doubt about that." Tom nodded at her and she smiled back. "But we've not caught him at it. If we… take him ourselves and deliver him to the constables they'll laugh in our faces."

"Laugh because we've got the wrong man or-" Mary made a face and Tom scowled at her.

"We've got no proof."

"Then we'll just wait for the next accident and hope no one dies this time?" Mary shook her head, "I don't know why none of us suggested this plan before."

"Don't Mary." Tom warned, "I'm not so glib as to suggest that we risk anyone's life on this but that man, if he is our man, hasn't been caught. It could all be a coincidence."

"Do you believe that Tom?" Matthew frowned and Tom shook his head.

"No. I don't believe in coincidences. But I do believe a man's innocent until proven guilty." Tom shuffled in his chair, "Moreover, he's a drifter. He's got nothing to gain from bringing us down."

"Unless he's working with someone who does." John clicked his teeth together as he mulled the concept in his mind. "It could be that there were those with the plans but no concept of how to act. They found someone who could."

"Like when we hired you?" Matthew opened his hand toward John before addressing the table. "We'd be foolish to assume that our hiring of Mr. Bates wasn't the only kind of contracted skill search that anyone's ever done."

"Where does one find a violent anarchist with pyrotechnic abilities?" The Colonel scoffed, "I don't recall an ad like that in the paper."

"They'd have code words." John shrugged, "They use them in Ireland all the time. And in other businesses where they're trying to make plans without snitches and employers knowing."

"So we've got a group trying to tear us apart from the inside and they've hired an expert to do it?" The Colonel groaned, "I'm going to bed. I can't take another moment of this."

"Probably best that we all think about sleep." Matthew pushed himself to stand as well, extending a hand to Mary to help her. "We're no good if we're all dead on our feet."

They dispersed, John waiting to walk with Anna as she said her 'good evenings' and 'good nights' to those present. She caught his eye and smiled, nodding toward him before wishing a final farewell to Mary. A moment later her hand rested in the crook of his elbow.

"What an event." She mused, walking with him through the corridor and toward the front door where Talbot gave a final handshake to Tom before leaving. "This… conspiracy is far more involved than I thought."

"Me too." John shook his head, helping her into her coat and taking his from the footman. "When I was hired I thought I'd just be looking into disgruntled employees trying to argue for higher wages. Not for… anarchists seeking to tear down an 'overbearing' system."

"Life's never what we expect." Anna placed her hat careful on her head and John caught the frown that passed momentarily over her face.

"What?"

"It's…" She scrunched her face, "That term Mr. Talbot used. The 'Judd and Jenkin…"

"What about it?"

"What does it mean?"

John smiled, "It's a mining term. It refers to when a block of coal is cut and ready for retrieval."

"And he used it to say that this situation isn't as… clean cut, as all that?"

"That's exactly what he meant." John steered them toward the pavement, shivering slightly at the nip in the wind. "I do hope you're alright, after all the… excitement of late."

"I'd have to say that my life became infinitely more exciting when you decided to make Cardiff your home." Anna paused, pulling them to a stop to wait for a group of carriages to run the road. "I was curious, about your new accommodations."

"Yes." John winced, "I found my previous situation untenable after my ex-wife persisted in tracking me there."

"Is she…"

"She's gone…" John blew out a puff of air. "I don't know where she's gone exactly. "I know she's no longer troubling me and my solicitor confirmed that we're no longer man and wife in the sight of the law."

"And in the sight of God?"

John managed a small smile, quirking the edge of his mouth. "We weren't married in the sight of God so I hope He turned a blind eye to when we chose to allow man to separate what man bound."

"You didn't get married in a church?"

"When we married I was sure the priest who might've married us would've fainted the moment he discovered we'd only known one another for three days and spent all those days…" John coughed, "I apologize. That's not a story for a lady."

"I'll hesitate to remind you that I don't consider myself a lady and that I work for miners." Anna rubbed her hand over his arm. "I know what kind of things a man and a woman an get up to when they're alone for three days."

John stopped them outside her shop, holding her hand to his arm so she looked up at him. "I promise you, what was there isn't anymore."

"I didn't think it was." Anna slipped her hands free to withdraw her key. "And I'd like to invite you inside, if you're peckish."

"I had thought Colonel Crawley might consider inviting us to dinner but…"

"Well," Anna pushed the door open, "You can tell me about your new living situation and we can share dinner."

John ducked his head and entered the shop. As Anna risked the dark of her shop, maneuvering skillfully through the maze she created and knew by heart, John remained near the door. His hands grabbed at one another, holding there for a moment just to give him something to do. But within a minute, Anna returned with a lantern and nodded her head toward the stairs.

"This way Mr. Bates."

He followed her to the back of the shop and up a tight twist of stairs to enter Anna's kitchen. She left the lamp on the table before digging around in a drawer to find a few candles. With a smile she handed him a few and pointed to a few holders.

"If you want to help."

"I'd be honored." John carefully removed the glass cover on the lamp and leaned the candle into the flame to light it. "What did you plan for dinner?"

"Unfortunately I don't have the cook the Crawley family employs. But I do have cold cuts and a few leftovers of some of my mother's favorite recipes." Anna fit a candle of her own into a holder and opened her icebox. "I hope you enjoy family recipes."

"Can't honestly say I've had many beyond my own." John cringed, setting the last candle in its holder. "And I'm no cook but I can manage."

"'Course you can." Anna winked at him and reached into her ice box to withdraw the necessary items to pass to him over the distance to the table. "But there's a distinct difference between cooking for joy and cooking for function."

"As I've discovered." John arranged the dishes and then took the cutlery from Anna's hands. "Do you cook for function or fashion?"

"It used to be a kind of hobby, when I was younger." Anna paused, her fingers dragging over a plate before handing it to John. "I told you I grew up a laundress."

"You did." John set the table, waiting for Anna to join him with a pitcher. "I'll assume it was your mother's occupation."

"You understand the pattern of inheritance for those without titles."

"I'm an inheritor of a trade, not a title." John pulled out Anna's chair before taking his own. "My father mined, my grandfather died in a mining shaft, and my great-grandfather broke ground on the mine I worked as foreman."

"I thought you were a soldier."

"Because I didn't want to die choking on fumes while I lay trapped under tonnes of rock." John shuddered, "My father died from the coal dust coating his lungs until he could only wheeze in bed while my mother tried to help him drink water."

They sat in silence a moment before Anna spoke. "My father died in a dye vat. He worked as foreman, similar to you, in a cloth factory. They were understaffed, underpaid, and underattended. The walkway above one of the vats collapsed… bad bolts, they said, and he fell into the boiling liquid." She wiped at her eyes, "Which would've been terrible on its own but my father couldn't swim and as he flailed about he got caught in the fabric and it wrapped around him. They pulled him out and the owner inspected the fabric to see if they could still sell it… Before he carted his body back to my mother's house in a burlap sack labeled with the company logo."

John nodded, "What a life we live, as tradesmen."

"Slaves to it, I think." Anna sighed, "My mother had to support my sister and I after that and she tried her hardest to. But… It wasn't too long before she needed someone else in the house to help. Someone who needed a cook and that was what I became. Cooking to feed the man I feared more than anyone in the world."

"You feared him?"

Anna nodded, "My stepfather was not a kind man. He'd get drunk, when my mother failed to wrest his money from him to pay the rent or for boots, and rage all over the house. He never hit us but he threatened too and my sister would go to sleep crying for so many nights."

"So did my mother." John spoke quietly but Anna turned to him. "My father's work made him bitter and cruel. He'd drink, he'd hit, and he'd rage. I couldn't fight him until I was sixteen and I left the house at seventeen to get away from him. Joined the Army, fought for England, and came home to see him dying."

"It's odd, isn't it, to watch once powerful men looking so frail and injured." Anna stroked her finger along the line of her plate. "When my stepfather made a threat against me once, I stole a knife from the kitchen and waited for him. When he came… I stabbed him in the thigh. He never walked right after that."

John smiled a little, "Firebrand, aren't you?"

"I don't mind to say it." Anna let her smile grow a bit. "But look at us, sharing our sad tales with one another over an even sadder dinner."

"Not sad to me." John swallowed, flicking his eyes to Anna but looking away when she focused on him. "I could never speak like this to Vera. She hated my mother and thought all my tales of woe were nothing but the sob stories of a man who wasn't manly enough for her. She wanted more from me and emotion wasn't what she wanted more of."

"What'd she want?"

"Money, position, influence… Those same things whomever's trying to ruin the Crawley family want. The things they can't have or haven't earned and yet still demand for themselves all the same."

"Such a sad existence, always trying to get what's not yours." Anna clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Still, we've a meal to share with one another and you've yet to tell me about your new living arrangements."

"Yes." John motioned at the food. "By your leave I don't know what you've prepared and I hate to pair the wrong foods."

Anna grinned, "It's all very fancy, I assure you."

"I've no doubt."

Their conversation changed, turning to lighter matters as they discussed their food. And then their childhoods- the happier bits of them- and their occupations. John could not help but watch in delighted fascination every time Anna's eyes lit up during a story or when she detailed her experiences working as a seamstress. Every detail and snippet stored for later recall and appreciation.

"Now," Anna put her hand on his for a moment, jolting him from another moment of adoration for her voice. "You've still not told me about where you're living now that you've given up your rooms at the inn."

"I'm sure they were grateful I left and the drama went with me."

"I wouldn't bet too heavily on that. Everyone loves a bit of gossip."

"I don't like being the center of it." John shuddered, "Spent too much of my life at the center of it all."

"Then where are you staying now?"

John paused, "I've taken rooms above a shop. They're on a more… permanent basis. Something a bit longer term."

"Oh?" Anna set down her cup, her fingers clutching to one another. "And why's that? I thought you were here for a short time."

"As did I, originally." John shrugged, "But Colonel Crawley's offered me a position to stay on permanently and I took him up on it. It's time to set down roots and here seems as good a place as any to do it."

"You want to stay in Cardiff."

"A city's a city. I've seen enough of them on a few continents to think there's nothing better or worse about one or the other."

"Really?" Anna raised an eyebrow, "All the writers would disagree with you. If no city took precedence over another how would they lord over everyone else not living in the City of Lights or in London or New York?"

John shrugged, "I guess I'm looking for something a bit different in the cities that I choose to live in."

"And what might that be?" Anna's eyes met his, the sparkle of humor in them. "What could possibly have drawn you to Cardiff?"

"A job."

She rolled her eyes, setting her chin on her palm. "Fine, pedant. What's compelling you to stay here?"

"You." John swallowed at the blink of Anna's eyes and wondered if he'd grossly miscalculated again. "I'm sorry if-"

"Do you want to stay the evening, Mr. Bates?" Anna glanced down at the table and then met his eyes again. "Would you stay here?"

"I'm sure there are those who saw me enter your house."

"I don't care about them." Anna put her hand over his. "I don't care about who saw what or what they'll say."

"Anna-"

"I'd sin with you, Mr. Bates, because that's what I want." Anna held his gaze, unflinching while he tried not to contort his face in pain. "I'm not married and neither are you. We're breaking no laws and we're shaming no one but ourselves."

"And I couldn't shame you, Anna." John put his hand over hers, as if trying to challenge who could reach highest. "I wouldn't want to risk your reputation."

"The worst case scenario is that you'd then have to marry me."

"I wouldn't doom you to that."

"And if I wanted it?" Anna almost bit her lip but stopped herself. "It's soon, I know, but we could get married."

"You barely know me."

"And yet I know everything I need to know about you." Anna put her other hand to her chest. "I feel it here. For reasons I can't explain and with a depth I couldn't even begin to fathom. I… I love you, Mr. Bates. I worry over you when you engage in daring actions. I fret that you'll be injured or that something'll happen. And when I see you safe and sound I heave a sigh of relief. I want for your safety and protection and your happiness in way I never have for anyone before. And perhaps it's too soon and we're being foolish but I know that if I don't do it now, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

John swallowed and stood up from the table. Anna's breath caught in her throat but he used the grip he had on her hand to urge her to stand. When she did, standing even with his shoulder, John bent his head to set his lips on hers.

"You already own me, body and soul, Ms. Smith." He stared at her, "I'm yours to take however you wish as I can't refuse you anything."

"Then please kiss me. Kiss me like you'll never stop."

And John did.


	9. Davy Lamp

Anna leaned as closely into the kiss as she could manage. There was nothing for her but the sensation of John's lips on hers and her fingers curling in his waistcoat to hold herself upright. And she needed nothing more than him. He was all she would ever need.

His tongue ran over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth just enough to tease the end of it. John surged forward, pressing her back against the wall and holding her between it and himself to sweep his tongue deeper into her mouth. Anna tilted her head, at his silent urging, to offer more of her mouth to him and the reward was a sucking sweep that left her curling her fingers in his waistcoat to support herself.

The details of the wall in her kitchen never seemed to matter before but with her back pressed against it and John's body all she could contemplate in front of her, Anna noted every ridge and ripple of the wood. Each and every nick and divot caught and wrestled with the wool of her sweater as if to help divest her of it. And it was all she could think about when John pulled his mouth away from hers.

"Why'd… Why'd you stop?" She gasped out, struggling to gain control of her mental faculties when all she could comprehend was the man before her and the old wall behind. "Are you-"

John kissed her again, stealing what little breath she had left before breaking away. He shook his head, almost violently, and sucked in a breath to speak. "No. I just… I don't think this is the kind of activity best suited for the kitchen."

"Best not." Anna agreed, allowing a smile to creep through the rise of her nerves. "I'll be honest, I've not… I've not done this before."

His fingers ran gently over her face, "I know."

"I don't want you to think I'm scared or nervous or-"

"I think you are scared." John bent to kiss her cheek, letting the heat rise a moment before pulling away. "And I think you are nervous."

"But?" Anna swallowed past the tremor in her voice as John kissed her other cheek before facing her.

"But I don't believe it'll stop you." One of John's fingers brushed a bit of hair from Anna's eyes. "If you're neither nervous nor scared, Ms. Smith, then you're made of sterner stuff than I was the first time I tried all of this."

"You were nervous?"

"Very much so." John's gaze seemed to take in her face until he landed back on her eyes again. "And I'm nervous all over again now."

"Why?"

"Because I want to do this right for you." The callouses on his hands held her face perfectly in his steady but delicate grip. "I want to make the world sing for you. This is a moment I could never give you again and, if I ever gave a perfect gift, I'd want this to be it."

Anna leaned into his grip to kiss him all the harder then, a swift tug at his waistcoat toppling him forward just enough to put her back hard against the wall while the weight of his chest crushed her breasts. Her mouth muffled his surprise but did nothing to stop the moan of pleasure they emitted in overlapping moments as their tongues learned to dance and tangle together better than before. And instead of focusing on the details of the wall of her kitchen, Anna found herself wondering if the weight of him on her would feel as lovely in her bed as it did in this moment while their lips fused together.

There was only one way to find out.

Breaking the kiss and grinning at John, Anna took his hand and guided him through the tight corridor to another room in the little over-the-shop flat. The room she shared with no one before. The room that was entirely her own.

The room she wanted to only ever share with John ever after.

John's fingers, the ones not gripped tightly in her hand, uncurled from the lamp as he set it on the bureau. Flickers of the flame sent their shadows dancing even as they barely moved before one another. Shadows traveled over the walls and Anna darted a quick glance toward the bed.

A gentle caress across her face brought her back to John but instead of kissing her, his lips traveled the distance of her jaw to her ear. "We'll fit."

"It's not a very big bed."

"We won't need as much space as you might think." Anna shivered as the stretch of John's lips into a smile pulled against the skin of her cheek. "Trust me, I can make do with what we have available to us here."

"Is it what you'd want?" Anna's eyes fluttered closed so the dusky brown behind her eyelids jumped and shifted in time with the weak light trying to illuminate a room she could no longer see.

"What I want is not as important as you."

"But-" Anna's eyes opened and John's finger landed on her lips.

"Trust me in this. If we both seek your pleasure then we'll be satisfied." Anna frowned and John kissed at it until her face softened again. "I don't know what anyone taught you, about all of this, but it's not that way."

"Growing up on a farm taught me all about what kind of way it is, Mr. Bates." Anna let her hand flatten against his waistcoat, skidding up toward his shirt and noting the layers of fabric still separating them. "But I'll trust your experience in this. You do have more of it than me."

"It only matters if I use it to please you." John stepped closer, so their feet slotted between one another like careful stitches. "We'll learn the ins and outs of this together, yes?"

"I'd like that." Anna smiled at him again, noting the flicker of shadows across his face changing the contours of it. One moment he looked like the boy version of himself, perhaps a bit more impetuous and daring, and in the next he resembled an older version of him. A version even wiser than he was now. A version Anna wanted to know intimately. "I want to learn with you."

"Good." John's lips found her other ear and traced that line back to her lips. "There's only one rule, in all of this."

"Only one?"

"Of you don't want it, say so."

Anna pulled back, "What?"

"If, at any moment, you feel too frightened or you want me to stop everything, I will. All you have to do is say it and I'll do it."

"I don't want you to stop."

"Not now but perhaps, when it comes to the moment, you'll-"

"You misunderstand." Anna took John's hands, moving them between their two bodies. "I don't want you to stop at all. I may not have the practical knowledge but what I know theoretically and academically is more than enough to tell me that I want what comes next between us. I want it with you."

"Then," John slipped her hands to his waistcoat, helping her undue each button and carefully tuck the chain of his pocket watch in with the chronometer. "Let me show you how it's done."

He did not kiss her as they removed his waistcoat or when they managed his cufflinks. Tucking them safely into the pocket with his watch, John guided her hands back to his shirt and she opened each one with a delicacy she used when undressing her customers. Each brush of her fingers against him, each one that brought her nearer to his actual skin, gave her a little shiver but did not allow a tremor to return to her hands. Careful, calculating, and cool motions brought his shirt from his body and Anna marveled a moment.

She worked with fabric every day. She knew the wear and tear on items, on materials, on fabrics and designs until her fingers could identify the age of anything almost to the month. The softness of John's shirt suggested sustained use, a softness of age and wear from washing with unforgiving soaps on even more unforgiving washboards in barrels of water leftover from something else. A shirt meant to stand the test of time and tide until it literally fell from his body.

But there was care there. Not a slap-and-dash motion for a clean hoping to remove obvious stains but one that allowed for the line of salt from sweat or the mended thread from previous tears or the slick stains of work to break apart and slough away. It was the clean of a man determined to take what little he had and use it up until it wore out but to use it well. The shirt of a man determined to make it last as long as he could and as well as he could. A frugal man, a man of work, a man she wanted to wrap around her so he could care for her as well as he had the shirt they laid over the back of a chair together.

John kissed her then. With her hand catching itself in confusion between an undershirt that separated him from a chest she could feel expand and contract and his suspenders, Anna hardly knew which step to take next. Which part of him should she expose? Or, her tongue darted over her lips as if to moisten them before John accomplished the task for her with his ever-delicate cupping of her cheeks, perhaps she could expose herself to him. What would he learn from her clothes?

Nothing, came the thought. Anna let her eyes flutter shut again, losing herself in the tempting shadows that fluctuated between bright and dark behind her eyelids, and her mind wander on the soporific loving of his mouth over hers. He would learn nothing from her clothes because John learned by tactile sensation. Everything he needed to know he would find on her skin.

Given the adoring way his mouth moved with hers, Anna guessed he could read her desires through her lips. Or perhaps through the way his hands kept her head in place to lavish his kisses so thoroughly wherever he desired. Or, to put it more correctly as she moaned into the subtle sweep of his tongue under hers, wherever he found she desired.

Unclothing herself would leave him free to learn her with his hands. Hands scarred and calloused from the work that defined his shoulders and back. Hands he used with force or with surprising gentleness. Hands that could heal and soothe as much as damage or destroy. Hands she wanted on her body.

Her hands, so small and fragile by comparison, covered his and drew them from her face. The lines in John's forehead and the twinge of his lips against hers alerted Anna to his surprise first. She ignored his unspoken question and took his lower lip between her teeth, scraping the skin to pull at it as if to distract him from her intentions.

She succeeded as John's hands trembled in her own. They only shook worse when Anna laid his fingers gently on the hem of her sweater. Their eyes met and, even in the dim light, Anna could see the moment of confusion and doubt. Her hands left his and leaned over far enough to reach the bureau and turn up the wick on the oil lamp. The flare of light left them exposed to one another and Anna replaced John's hands on her hem.

"It only lifts one way." She whispered and they both chuckled together a moment before John lifted up. With a shimmy and a slight twist, Anna escaped the wool with no more than a crackle of static that threatened to put her hair on end.

John's hands immediately went to her hair, combing through it to find the pins and pieces that held it to her head so, as he removed the accouterments, it bounced and jostled to her shoulders to settle there. The curve of his mouth and the widening of his eyes did nothing to tamp down Anna's thrill at his reaction of surprised satisfaction. And she succumbed to the gentle pull of his fingers through her hair as he exulted in the way its golden sheen draped from her head to hang like a veil on her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful." He shook his head, staring at her as if trying to comprehend the reality of her existence. "How did I ever find you? How could I have hoped to ever find you?"

"Fate and a very kind God brought us together, Mr. Bates." Anna found his fingers at the end of a run through her hair and guided them back to her dress. "I believe you were finishing helping me remove my dress."

"I didn't want to rush you."

"You learn with your hands, Mr. Bates, same as me." Anna let her arms cross his so they both used their hands to touch hesitantly at the throat of the other. "I just learn from your clothing and you learn from holding."

"What'd you learn from my clothing?" His voice whispered in her ear and Anna forced herself to focus on the tiny buttons that kept his undershirt tight to his body. "What could my clothes tell you?"

"Your shirt tells me about your care and devotion and your desire to use what you have well. It's worn but not damaged." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Just like you."

"You're right." His fingers slid over her face, toward her hair and then back to her throat.

"About what?"

"That my hands've told me a lot about you."

Anna's breath caught, "And what've you learned?"

"Your hair is soft. Softer than it's any right to be which tells me you use products you've found through careful experimentation because you want to feel beautiful." John's lips kissed both of her cheeks and then to her throat, where his fingers slipped the buttons out of their holes. "And your skin is soft, not because you don't work hard but because you care for it. You value your appearance."

"I hope you don't believe I'm vain."

"Never." He breathed against her skin, kissing the newly exposed expanse as her collar peeled back. "I believe you care for your appearance because you want to care for yourself and there's no shame in that."

"Do you care for me?"

John met her eyes, his fingers pausing in the separation of her dress. "I care for you very deeply Ms. Smith. You are my Davy lamp."

Anna blinked at him, "Your what?"

"It's a safety lamp named for Sir Humphry Davy, the inventor." He sighed, stroking his fingers through her hair while her hands slipped toward his trousers to pluck the materials apart so her fingers brushed against the skin of his hips. "It helps me through the mines so they can see."

"Do I help you see?"

"Yes." The whisper of his voice wafted toward her ear while his hands slipped down her back to wrap back to the buttons going down her dress. "You've even got hair like a light. The yellow-gold of salvation and light."

"You're quite the charmer."

"One needs a decent amount of charm to seduce a beautiful woman."

Anna leaned toward him, moving her hands under his shirt to spread over the skin of his chest, and let her lips find the skin available for her to kiss at the collar of his undershirt. "That's a lovely thought."

"It's not a thought." John's hands pulled her dress open and Anna took half a step back to see the expression of unhindered awe on his face. "It's the unfettered truth. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"You're rather glorious yourself." Her hands caught under the fabric of his undershirt and forced first his suspenders to thwap against his hips and then his arms above his head. She dropped the offending article on the chair with his shirt and finally took in the sight of his bare chest. "You're a gorgeous man, Mr. Bates."

"And you, Ms. Smith," A playful smile urged at the corners of John's mouth as he guided Anna the pace closer that he needed to shove the bodice of her dress down and leave her arms temporarily trapped at her sides. "Have me at a rather unfair disadvantage."

"Do I?" Anna reached her arms behind her back to yank on the cuffs of her sleeves to bring them down her arms and leave the top of her dress dangling at her waist. Her corset shoved her small breasts up and kept her contained within the confines of the dress but it was enough to see John's face when he could trace her arms with his fingers. "Are we matched now?"

"Never." He breathed, running butterfly-like touches from her wrists to her shoulders and back down. "Anyone who suggests that man and woman will ever be equal are fools."

"Why?"

John let his fingers encircle her wrists and pulled each to his mouth to kiss the newly discovered skin there. "Because women are far superior to men."

"Are we?"

"Yes." His hands shifted back to her shoulders and played over her collarbones before he held her still to allow his mouth to retrace similar steps. "You're visions to behold. Creatures of light and smiles with tempests raging inside you that we're lucky to even glimpse if you're generous and merciful to us."

"Tempests?"

"Infernos, blizzards, and earth rending torrents that encapsulate all the emotions of mankind that you pass onto your children." John's lips never stopped adoring her skin, moving to her breasts as Anna's hands only pressed to his chest to find a hold for herself. "It's all beneath the surface that you keep serene and gentle."

He paused, his tongue darting out to trace into the crevice created between her breasts by the push of her corset. "It's why they call the sea a woman."

"I thought," Anna swallowed, one of her hands finally curling her fingers around his waistband to hold herself upright to him as the other sought a steadying grip on the underside of his arm. "They called the sea a woman because she's tempestuous and unfaithful."

"Only fools think women who are free and unrestrained are unmanageable and undesirable."

"I didn't take you for a sailor."

"I'm not." John raised his head, taking her lips in a deep kiss that distracted her from his fingers finishing the buttons that helped him drop her dress to the floor. "But I believe there's more to enjoy if women are left to themselves. We're just grateful to be spectators."

"I've never imagined myself much of a spectacle."

"Then I'll be the first to enjoy watching you come out of yourself." John's dexterity loosened the ties of her hoops to drop them to the floor and kick them to the side when Anna stepped free. "You know there's a storm inside you, begging to be set free, and you've just got to find it."

"Help me." Anna's hands gripped at the back of John's head, fingers carding into his hair to bring his mouth to hers. "Unleash my storm."

"With pleasure." His mouth took hers and they managed an awkward half-shuffle to land on the bed.

The wooden slats and the ropes under them groaned a moment but settled as they did. Anna urged John more over her, reveling in discovering the sensation of him over her was as wonderful as him pressing her to the wall of her kitchen. Perhaps more so, if she were honest, as his body pressed the length of hers. Every muscle and curve aligned until they rested as if two halves of the same piece finally came together.

And he never stopped kissing her. His lips moved from her mouth to her face to her neck to the tops of her breasts to her collar and back without a break in stride. Not even when they fumbled together to free him from his trousers and manage her stockings. They paused for a moment at the sound of tearing but Anna only grinned and pushed John's trousers to the floor to loosen his garters while he kicked free of his shoes. With a shared chuckle they resumed their exploration.

Anna risked pushing John to his back, to finally shed light on his skin and marveled at it. The dips and curves so familiar, from years of measuring men for suits and shirts, and yet so different. His skin vibrated under her touch and he shivered when she happened upon his nipples or the brush of hair leading in the same direction as the guidance of his hipbones. She bit her lip at the thought of watching him walk naked, to finally see the power of the man so obvious when he wore clothing and yet…

His thumb pulled her lip from her teeth and John leaned up to kiss her. She gasped into the motion as John bending at the waist put them closer than they were before and she felt… Something pressed against her stomach and Anna pulled away from their kiss when realization finally set in. John held still, his hand still alongside her face, and Anna forced herself to swallow as if that might regulate her breathing.

"It's nothing to be scared of Anna."

"I've heard…" She took a deep breath, "I've heard stories."

"It won't be like that." He soothed, moving her hair back away from her face. "I won't let it be like that for you. Not ever."

"But you can't help…" Anna shifted against him but the furrow of confusion remained in the deeper lines of John's forehead. "I've measured a great many pairs of trousers, Mr. Bates, and I know how to judge size."

"Oh."

"I'm no expert on… On this side of things but you're…" Anna managed another breath, the heat from her face surely shining as brightly as the light on her bureau. "I doubt there are any men in this area, whose trousers I've measured, who could claim they're on par with you in this."

"I don't know about that." John bit the inside of his cheek. "But I do know there are ways to make it so… So it won't be so painful."

"Even with…"

"Even with," John nodded, one of his hands slipped between them to hold between her legs for a moment. Anna hitched in his hold and then sighed at the gentle massage he applied. "This is a muscle, like any other, and with a bit of preparation and stretching it won't hurt."

"It won't?"

"Not like you've torn something. It'll stretch and feel sore but," John put his lips next to her ear. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to give you more pleasure you'll ever remember as pain."

"I trust you." Anna slipped from him, her fingers finding the ribbons holding her corset closed. "And I… I want this. I want this with you. No matter the consequences I want this with you."

John's fingers joined hers, eventually replacing them as she lifted them high enough for John to pull the contraption from her body. It hit the floor with a thud and left her in her slip and knickers. Despite the shadows of the oil lamp, Anna noted the tent in his pants that he adjusted to try and relieve but the shape remained as erect as ever. She swallowed and took advantage of John's moment of distraction trying to tug her slip from her thighs to reach a hand forward.

His body froze, taut as one of the rope lines that raised and lowered the lifts in the mine. Anna went to remove her hand but John's landed over hers and held it in place. After a moment, her involuntary noise when he twitched under her palm quickly answered with John's fingers firming around her wrist, he helped her move around him. And, as if growing more comfortable with a skittish horse, Anna withdrew her hand and met his eyes.

"May I?"

He nodded and lifted himself from the bed to drop his pants to the floor. Anna turned away, scrunching her eyes closed as she berated herself for missing an opportunity to see him in his glory. To enjoy the sight of him, of any man, for the first time. But a dip in the bed brought him back to her and his fingers enclosed her wrist again so he could guide her back.

The skin, soft and supple, surprised her. Every other part of him bore the signs of a life lived through work and sweat and effort and here was a part of him untouched. A part of him kept separate from all else the world threw at him. She flicked her eyes down to gaze at him and wondered if daylight could solve her confusion at the sensation of softness encasing strength she could not begin to comprehend. Almost as if he carried a tempest inside him as well.

Her tentative explorations ended when he hissed through his teeth. Anan's hand froze, hovering over him as John's fingers tightened on her wrist. "Did I do something wrong?"

"It's not that." His chest expanded and John forced his eyes open. "If we continue then you'll… I don't know if you're ready for what might happen."

"It's what'll happen inside me, yes?"

"Only if I'm inside you." John bit his lip as Anna swallowed hard enough for it to echo through the room. "I'm sorry Anna. That was… That was uncouth and I shouldn't have said it like that."

"No," Anna stopped him, blinking as if to file some fact away in her brain. "I… It's what I want, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Yes." Anna met his eyes. "I just… I don't know the words for it. It's not something people talk about and I don't-"

John quieted her with a whisper. "The best words, for this moment, are none at all… Except those we can't help but say because we're in ecstasy."

"Yes please." Anna's lips bruised against his with the force of her surge toward him and John's hands caught at her hips. Caught in such a way that they managed to sneak under the hem of her slip and slide it up her body to rest under her breasts.

It broke the kiss but Anna nodded slowly and raised her arms to allow John to lift the slip above her head. His eyes could not stop staring at what he found and Anna forced her arms to her sides. Even though her skin glowed pink with her nerves and her embarrassment. Even though his gentle touches sent shivers through her. Even though he paused so she could regain her confidence.

"Are you alright Anna?"

"I'm just nervous." She swallowed hard, "Do you… Do you like me?"

"I've never touched a goddess before but I doubt 'like' is the word you use when you do?"

"Then you like… Looking at me?"

"I'd look at you for the rest of my life if that was all I could do." John ran the backs of his fingers up her arm and brushed at her breast. "May I touch more of you? May I bring you pleasure, Anna?"

She nodded, "Yes."

With a shift and another conscious effort to ignore the groan of the slats and ropes, Anna lay back on the bed at John's insistence. She kept her arms up as John kissed over familiar territory. He used the kisses at her mouth to drug and seduce her until her body could barely move. He used the kisses over her shoulders, neck, and collar to excite her. And he used kisses at her breasts to encourage her.

The motions of his tongue distracted her. They kept her only aware of his tiny movements until he sucked desperately at her nipples. Then gently licked and laved them before making his way lower.

He kissed lovingly at the rise and fall of her abdomen, forcing air into starving lungs, to the line of her knickers. Knickers he removed one kiss at a time as if setting a path for them to travel down her legs. And when she lay there, as naked as the day she was born and matching him in their shared nudity, John worked his way back up.

For all the words that seemed superfluous and incomplete, his kisses were not that. They were poetry on her skin. They were dreams, wishes, desires, and wants. They were everything they could not say and all those things they wanted to express but could only manage to translate with their bodies. She, roughly and without finesse or eloquence. He with great elocution and elegance.

The gentle pressure of his hands spread her legs enough for his body to settle between them and Anna moved. Her hand sought one of his and intertwined their fingers to hold him in place before he continued. Their eyes met and she nodded enough for him to move his other hand between her legs.

Anna's eyes closed and rolled in their sockets. The pressure of his fingers, demanding and yet delicate on her sensitive skin, coaxed her reactions from her. All of his motions sought deeper crevices where pleasure stored inside her body, as if waiting for the right key to release them, and when he applied pressure from inside her body and out, Anna's back arched.

There were no words in her vast vocabulary, or any other she might argue, for what she felt. There might be descriptions or details or anatomically correct terms stated by men with certifications and degrees but those were just stuff and nonsense. For her there was nothing more beautiful than that moment.

As her body settled, still shivering and twitching from her reaction, Anna tugged on John's hand. He leaned over her and accepted the kiss she pressed hard to his lips before returning with a sweep of his tongue. For a second she recognized it as a distraction and frowned until a swift pressure broke their kiss.

She hissed, her body tightening, and her ears fogged with a warning from her body that something was out of the ordinary. It took John's voice, coaxing and soft in her ear, to remind her to relax. And he waited as Anna forced herself to breathe deeply and untense her muscles so he might move. Another shift and the unfamiliar weight settled into her body again, deeper this time.

His free hand, damp from her, held at her hip and lifted just enough for their bodies to merge together. Anna cried out and opened her legs on instinct to finally settle John as deeply inside her as their position would allow. Their hips joined together and John's body quivering around and insider her, gave Anna a shudder of sensation before John slipped back.

There was not even a moment to whine about the loss of contact before John surged forward again. This time deeper, impossibly touching to the very core of her as Anna's brain spun and fritzed to comprehend the idea. Then John set a rhythm.

A rolling, rocking seduction that lulled Anna's body into a steady beat of pleasure. It dulled the stretch, the uncomfortable fullness, the press and drag, and even the hints of pain as muscles moved as they never did before. Her body obeyed its primal, biological urges instead of the societal dictates and Anna blocked all thought so the natural mind might guide her to the proper next step. To the next appropriate response. To the path of pleasure.

And they found it. John's patience guidance and direction opened Anna until she moved to find more, to demand it of him. Their lips and tongues met, their teeth occasionally clacked together, and their bodies slipped and slid over one another until they could find a position they wanted and needed. And then, when their bodies tensed and tightened in unison, they reached the ecstasy John promised.

His body settled on hers, just short of collapse, and Anna shifted them together so they could lay staring at one another. Their bodies pulled apart and Anna cringed at the wetness gathered between her legs. She reached for something but John stopped her, climbing from the bed to gather the hand towel from beside the water pitcher and dampen it enough to bring back to her.

The sweep of his hands over her continued to encourage the tremors in Anna's body but it soothed the already aching muscles enough to allow her to relax into the cover of the bed. When he went to address himself Anna stopped him, taking the cloth to return the attention he paid her. Their lips met again before John set the cloth aside and nodded at the bed.

"Do you mind if I stay?"

"I'd like that." Anna shifted to pulled the covers down and curled under them until John joined her. In a few moments they found a position they liked and settled together, breathing quietly. "Will you stay until morning?"

"Of course." He put his lips to her forehead, "I'll stay as long as you want me to, Ms. Smith."

"Forever then." Anna breathed and closed her eyes.


End file.
